Polarized
by You can call me Randy
Summary: "You're something else, aren't you?" "Says the shady cloak guy in the corner." A young woman who considers herself 'normal' is sent to the world of Two Kinds. Only problem is that she has no idea where she is. What follows will make her face the sunshine, one way or another. And what's this business about there being people who aren't humans, anyhow? Sounds... fun. (OC)
1. Prologues and not Knowing Shit

**A/N: So I decided to revamp this story into first person because that new story I was doing is cool and all, but this is also a cool story.**

 **That's right; it's** _ **on**_ **, bitches.**

 **...Oh, and I decided to redo this in first person, just so that it's easier on me to get through. Third person can be awesome if done correctly, but I feel like it doesn't... work right with me.**

 **Also, I'm going to be changing some things with the story (** _ **gasp**_ **, changing things?!) so rereading this should be a good idea, so that you don't skip ahead and be all like 'wtf, Randy?'**

 **On the bright side, this 'catching up' thing is going to be done as fast as possible, and the second chapter (first, if you don't count the prologue) is being posted soon after this one. So twice the amount of 'Polarized' goodness, woot!**

 **For new people just showing up to the madness** **, welcome, welcome. This is a remake of something I made a few months back, with both changed story and changed details. So the only thing you missed if you didn't see the earlier one is, like, a third person version of this. So... eh.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoy the redux of Polarized!**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I do not own Two Kinds; I am merely... borrowing Tom's stuff to make things weirder. It's on the table on whether this is a good idea, however, so debate that all you want. ;)**_

Feels good to Line Break, again.

I like to believe I'm normal, all considered.

I lived a fairly normal childhood – nothing crazy – have normal parents – who are loving and caring – and I had a normal brother. And how could I ever forget my little – read: _fat_ – companion back at my apartment: Tiger the tabby cat.

Growing up, I'll admit I was... abrasive. Not that I go out of my way to be borderline rude, but some kids _really_ grated my nerves back then. If someone was keeping their distance from me, and nobody was being an annoying little shit, then I was seen as distant.

Not that I tried to be distant – on _purpose_ – but I liked to just watch the world turn by. If I wasn't preoccupied by something at hand, I was just watching things go by; be it watching other kids play – or be vicious, _terrifying_ things – or just observing the environment. It was a hobby of mine to watch things and use said time to think – either about what I'm watching or whatever is on my mind.

As a gift – or maybe a little joke that turned into a sort-of blessing – my mother sifted around in the attic and gave me an old camera that she used to use. It still used _integral film_ , which is the cliché 'take a picture and the picture spits out the front', and nowadays I just have it sitting at the bottom of my satchel – for memory's sake.

But when I first got it, it was one of the coolest things _ever_ , period. I took pictures of _everything_ , be it something mundane or interesting. And most pictures I took went into albums, writing onto a small strip of tape the name of my 'greatest work yet'.

The amount of money that went into getting film that isn't sold readily anymore...

Well, photography became a new hobby of mine.

I went throughout the rest of my schooling days being the girl that didn't make any sense. I was seen as _very_ outspoken when approached, but otherwise uncharacteristically quiet. Alongside my backpack with my school-stuffs is my satchel, holding my first camera with as much extra film as I dare carry. It was obvious that people called me 'hipster', with the – now – slightly battered satchel glued to me at all times.

There were a few people that managed to take in my attitude and not be too bothered by it, but I can easily say that I _never_ had a perfect friend. I had people who were great to shoot the shit with, and a handful of times I went out with them to places, but none of them really... stuck with me; none were a person who I couldn't live without, hell I could hardly remember their _names_ , now.

After high school – passing it with one of the highest GPA's, despite getting into trouble more than once for indecent behavior – I decided to get into art school, and my parents happily supported me, and I think my brother would, too. Issue is, well...

Photography isn't cheap; not by a _long shot_. Some _lenses_ for a decent camera can go into the _thousands_ , for crying out loud! At least the outcome is worth it – sometimes.

So, two years into an arts college, and I'm looking like a promising art student; good grades – studying my ass off into the wee hours of the morning and not sleeping somehow works for me – and fantastic pictures combine to make me look like I'm on the fast track to getting _famous_. And from a town in the middle of nowhere, too!

I was proud of what I've done so far, damn it!

I guess it sucks that it went out the metaphorical window, and I died in the middle of said nowhere called Greenville.

…

Yeah, let me explain that further.

I was walking home from my part-time job – waiter at a restaurant, if you're curious – and I decided to change course when I remembered that there was a sale going on at the store I usually go to, my schedule not allowing me to get there in time to catch it. It was only going to be some light shopping, getting what I needed and getting the hell out so that I can move on with my life.

Then some douche went and hit me when I was crossing the road – didn't even see the bastard coming!

I didn't see anything when I looked both ways on the street, and I didn't _hear_ anything at first, but _lo and behold_ , when I was halfway across the road I heard a loud roar of an engine, and all I got was a glimpse of something yellow before-

-nothing.

…

No, really! I went from enjoying a nice nightly stroll – the stars looks _great_ – to a literal abyss of absolutely _nothing_. Currently, I can't see, feel, hear, smell, even _taste_ anything. Nothing but this endless darkness that is just everywhere and my thoughts.

I've only been here in said darkness for an hour at most, and while I've been in here I've meet my worst enemy:

Absolutely nothing interesting to observe and alone with my thoughts. A dangerous combination, indeed. If this is some kind of hell for something I haven't learned to do in life, it's certainly going to work soon.

Really, though. If I was to think about _one_ thing that sent me here, other than _Danny_ -

No, bad Dawn, you have to keep yourself together for as long as possible! I still need to finish my inner monologue.

Now, probably one things that sent me to one of the most boring places to ever exist might be that I... tend to make myself look kinda boring.

If you were to look at me, the word 'ordinary' would come to mind. My hair is probably the most drab shade of brown ever recorded, with my eyes following suit, ending with a plain-looking face and a figure that _screams_ tomboy – my abrasive attitude wasn't tomboy, but it was pretty damn close. If I was to wear a suit, I'd probably be mistaken for a teenage _guy_ , with how short my hair is cut.

I blame dad – I took all of his features, and while I'm not _ugly_ , my body doesn't exactly shout _feminine appeal_. Still got a few looks from both sides of the coin at least-

Oh my god why am I talking to myself about this; I have more important things to deal with. Like this great nothingness that has consumed me.

...But seriously, why the hell am I talking about my _looks_ when I can't see shit-

For the first time since arriving here, I can _feel_ something. Only that it's in no way a _normal_ feeling. A warmth seems to just... prod at my core, from what I can tell. Examining me, looking for something.

Then, for the first time since entering this god-forsaken void, I hear something; a voice.

" _Yes, this is good. You will do well enough for my purposes._ "

The voice, which sounds androgynous, is soothing, and a rising panic that I never new I had in me fades away as quickly as I noticed it.

I try to respond, but before I could remember that I _can't_ , even my thoughts go dark, falling into unconsciousness.

Line Breaks for the soul.

When I drift to consciousness, it's done slowly and oddly comfortably. For... some reason I thought I was going to be in a lot of pain, but... why would I be? A breeze flows by, bringing with it the scent of a forest, and the sounds of nature around me – leaves rustling with the wind, small critters chittering, and birds chirping – confirms that. When did I get into a forest? There are some around the outskirts of the town, but I don't remember going here anytime recently.

I open up my eyes, showing me said forest.

And it's not the one I'm used to.

All of the trees are... wrong. Some of them are familiar – it's hard not to miss all of the oaks – but there's a startling lack of pines, anywhere.

Now that I listen _really hard_ , I can't hear any sounds of civilization, anywhere. No sounds of cars running, or anything of the sort. Hell, smelling the _air_ , it's not the same.

At this point, I finally stood up, and I finally noticed a weight around my shoulders. Looking down at said weight shows me a familiar strap, and my confusion evolves because _why_ do I have my _satchel_? I always leave it at home when I go to work...

Oh. I died – or did I? I don't know, I remember _something_ rushing me, and being left in that _place_ , but nothing much else comes to mind for why I'm _here_ , of all places. Hell, the accident happened in the middle of town, and now it looks like I'm in a different _state_.

A clearing in the wood catches my eyes, and in my rising tension I practically sprint towards it. Whatever pieces of nature that catches onto me I swat aside as I bolt to _something_ , _anything_.

Bursting from the treeline, I laugh out a short breath of relief at the _trial_ laid out in front of me. Trails mean a way forward instead of stumbling my way through the forest, and the best part: _civilization_.

...But which way is the right way?

As if it was a sign from destiny, a well-worn sign – ha – sits covered in some sort of ivy. As I walk up to it, I cock my head at the fact that it's made of _wood_ , and it looks like it's been out here for some time if nature it taking it over. Brushing a bit of plant-matter out of the way, my hopes almost collapse at the fact that the name on the sign is worn to the point that it's illegible, but looking below it brings my hopes back up with a '12 Mi.' still _barely_ legible.

Looking down the way shows the path bending, showing nothing but more trees.

Well, I've always wanted to go hiking...

Twelve miles can't be that bad, can it?

'Bout to eat your words, Dawn.

Feeling the heat of the air – when the hell did it get so _hot_ , it's early September – and the burning running through my legs, I almost want to sock past-me in the face for saying what she said. I am _not_ fit, like, at _all_. I did remember reading something about preparing yourself physically if you plan on going for hikes or long nature walks, but _holy shit_ this is a bit much.

I wipe the sweat building on my forehead for the fifth time. At least it's getting dark out, so the air is getting cooler.

The little things, everyone; gotta appreciate them.

After a few more minutes – I think it was minutes – of walking, wishing I had some water on me from how _thirsty_ I was, I finally round the last bend and take in the sight of a rolling hill heading to my destination.

And promptly let out a noise that's something between a cry of victory and a shout of confusion.

I mean, I made it to civilization, but why the hell is it so _old_. I'm pretty sure that's _thatched roofs_ I'm looking at, complete with wooden buildings and a big dirt road running through it. It's more of a _renaissance village_ \- hell, I bet it _is_ one.

Is... this an Amish village? I mean, I _think_ that the Amish refuse to use any form of technology, but I'm not even sure if I'm in the right _region_ , or even in the right _**hemisphere**_ for that. Unless I somehow ended up on the other side of the pond, I don't know _what_ to think.

Looking down at myself, I see my more modern clothing of an eggshell white shirt – the brown sweater I have _had_ to come off, it's too hot for that – and gray capris, I would stick out _bad_. Shit, _the haircut_ would probably offend someone if they see it, however stuck-down it is from sweat.

Despite this, I continue forwards because _fuck_ culture shock, I'm thirsty and in need of directions to the nearest town with _cell reception_.

Walking down to the town, there's a quaint looking archway with attached walls, and a gate that's wide open. Really, it looks like a design choice to put the gates there – if it was meant to stop anyone, they could just walk the extra fifty feet to go around the wall and into the village that way – and they don't look like there's a way to keep them closed. Continuing on through, I take a look around and have to keep myself from staring at the people walking around.

For one, they definitely aren't Amish, if anything they look even _further_ back in time. There's literally a kid that's smothered in dirt that is in a threadbare shirt and pants, looking like the stereotypical surf-child. The more well-off people don't look much better; the clothes _they_ wear look like it was hand-sown, and something tells me that it was probably either someone they know or _themselves_.

Then there's the buildings, from a distance it looks pretty bad, but now I can tell that everything was hand-made, and not done by professionals-

I'm starting to notice the stares. The people milling about the road are starting to look in my direction, and it's not hard to miss me as I walk down the middle of the dirt path. Most of the looks are curious, probably from seeing someone new in town – village, whatever – but there are a few that seem to raise a brow at the clothes that I'm wearing-

"Are you alright, miss?"

I jump at the voice, and I swing myself to face the guy who spoke. He's... definitely the person who looks like he lives here – clothes that look worn down a bit and hand-made – and his awfully average appearance looks to put _mine_ to shame.

"What." I take a second to think about what he said, then speak up. "I'm fine, but I'm... not from around here. Do you know if there's a mot- a place to stay, for the night?"

The man raises a brow at my answer – and it rises even further onto his greasy forehead at my slip up – but answers. "Well, miss, there's a tavern down further if you keep walking. It's the biggest building here, you can't miss it; run by Maven Taverndatter and her sister, Karen. Some odd women, they are, but they're good at what they do."

I'm almost taken aback at the extremely helpful answer. Aren't old-time-y village people supposed to be wary of new people? Either way, I thank the man and almost power walk to the place I was told about. Looking for the largest building, I can clearly see it as I spot – what looks like the only one – the two story building, a sign that says 'Tavern' hanging outside of it. There's a sign nailed to the door that says 'No Keidran Allowed', but I don't give it too much thought. I have to stop myself from rushing as I almost burst through the door and into the tavern.

Inside, it feels like I _really_ traveled back in time; the floors, walls, the _everything_ is made of wood. All the tables and chairs are simply-made, if shaped to look slightly stylized and better than your average wooden chair. There are a handful of people sitting around, whether they're sitting in groups drinking and laughing it up, or sitting alone and nursing a tankard of something.

I nearly do a double-take at the one guy drinking out of a clay mug, and from the looks of it it's _coffee_.

Okay, this _has_ to be an Amish place; I'm fairly certain that they didn't have coffee when they made the Magna Carta-

"Welcome, can I help you miss?" I female voice that sounds both bored and irritated calls out from the back of the room. I skirt the occupied tables, moving towards the back of the room where there's a counter and...

The woman's hair is _purple_.

 **Purple**.

I must've been staring for a while, because the woman speaks back up – this time with more annoyance.

"What, you never seen purple hair before?" Her eyes narrow at me and _wow_ she has a short fuse.

"Nah, just didn't expect it from out here." I say, shaking my head.

Now that I'm here, the fact that I haven't had anything seems to rush to the forefront of my mind, and a headache decided to accompany it – or was it there all along? I focus back on the annoyed woman in front of me, who's now narrowing their eyes in thought.

"Do I know you?" She suddenly blurts out before I can talk.

"No... I'm pretty sure I've never met you." Which is true, I've never even met someone in _art school_ who has dyed their hair that level of purple. It's almost an eggplant-color from how dark it is-

"Are you sure," They seem to be leaning in now, the intensity from their eyes seeming to increase to study my face. "You look awfully familiar..." She shakes her head.

"Nah, I'm just seeing things. So, whatcha need?" The sudden turnaround from intense staring to bored-annoyed almost throws me for a loop, but the headache and need for _something_ to eat and drink takes priority.

"Got something to eat and drink, and a room for the night?"

"Yeah. That'll run you for six silvers."

Silvers? Wait, I think...

I fish into my pockets, pulling out a fistful of change. Sifting through it, I count out six quarters and hold it out to her.

"Will this work?" I place them into her outstretched hand, and she takes a second to visually count them. Other than raising a brow at said coins, she drops them somewhere behind the counter and turns around to a doorway.

"Karen, I need another meal ready!" Another voice comes from the doorway, this one sounding very cheery.

"Okay, sis! Coming right up." Yeesh, she sounds like the sun given a voice, and not in a good way. The amount of cheer coming from her is almost tangible, and I haven't even _seen_ her yet.

Looking back at the woman behind the counter, she's leaning down and messing with something behind the counter, and after standing straight, she places one of the tankards on top. Inside is something akin to ale, from the looks of things.

"You look like you need it; it's better than whatever I gave those guys," She nods her heads at the group in the center of the tavern, who looks to be having the time of their lives. "If I were you, I'd sit away from them; they can get annoying."

"...Thanks for the advice..." I slowly say, grabbing the container and begin making my way to a table away from everyone – and find one away from the group of men. Looking around, there doesn't seem to be many tables, and every one seems to be next to someone who is looking a little _too much_ in places I rather they not.

Taking another look around, another doorway is off to the side, and walking up to it shows me another room with tables set around, along with what looks like extra kegs and mantles with staffs and other odd tools on it. It looks to have a more local feel to it, than the other room.

It doesn't look to be occupied, and anywhere is better than next to one of _those_ sleazes.

Walking in, I find one of the empty tables and plop myself down on it, facing the entryway. Taking the time to myself, I look down at the drink in my hands.

I'm... not much of a drinker. I'm more of a hard lemonade kind of person – call me a wuss, but I rather like what I'm drinking and not hate myself in the process of drinking. Taking in a breath to prepare myself, I lift up the tankard and hammer it back-

-and have to stop myself from how bad it tastes, coughing a bit. Hearing a snort, I lift my head up to glare from where it came from.

Apparently I'm not as alone as I would've liked; there was someone in the corner, coated slightly in shadow. They have a hooded cloak on, making it impossible with the shadow casting over their visage.

A stereotypical shady-cloak guy, okay.

Still isn't going to stop me.

"I don't drink alcohol often, so _bite me_." At first, they looked surprised that I said something to them, but – without breaking the shadow – turns the opening of their hood towards me and talks.

"Well," The voice is masculine, and sounds like he's giving his best deadpan. "What _do_ you drink, milk?"

I don't know what it was – the shady guy's snark, the headache, the entire walk here – but I just keep talking out of spite.

I level a deadpan right back. "And _why_ should I take your opinion for granted – milk can make your bones stronger, ya know." That only lets loose another snort from him, adding a huff of laughter afterwards.

"'Makes your bones stronger,' huh? Where did you hear that?"

"It's common knowledge; unless you live under a rock, _everyone_ should know it. I mean," I level him with a smirk. "Unless you're some kind of dumbass." I lift up my tankard, smirk still in place-

-and start another coughing fit, hearing the bastard laughing over the coughs. Wiping the spilled ale off of my mouth, I look up to glare at the total _bitch_ -

Only for my eyes to widen and jaw to _drop_.

Because his hood fell down, and whatever the guy is isn't _human_.

The first thing that comes to mind is that he's covered in _fur_ , for one, and the general facial structure makes me think of a cross between a goat and some kind of cat. The coloring of his hair – and _fur_ , god that's strange to think – is a sandy blond, and his _eyes_...

They're an amber color, which I've seen on people before, but they're _pupiless_.

And the mirth – I think that's mirth – falls off of his face when he notices my expression, and he seems to now notice the hood that's pooling at his shoulders.

An awkward silence seems to fall over us like thick smoke, slowly choking whatever we had going-

"Alright, miss! I got your food right here!" A cheery voice – the one from earlier – calls out, and in walks a woman wearing an eye-searing neon green dress, with hair to match. Her skin is darker than usual, and to add to my flabbergasted state as she walks closer with the meal I bought, it's almost _gray_.

"Here you go!" She places it down in front of me, oblivious to the look on my face. "If you need anything else, just let Maren know, 'kay?" She doesn't even wait for me to acknowledge her as she seems to nod to herself, then walks – almost skipping – out of the room.

Silence reigns again. I grab the tankard without looking and just down it, horrible taste and all. Really hope Maren was right when she said this was the good stuff...

Setting the glorified wooden cup down, I look back to the guy in the corner to see him looking away, his now visible face is... subdued? Disappointed?

...There's something going on here, and something tells me that I just did something stupid. He _is_ rude, but yet again so was _I_ for multiple reasons. And if the reason he's back here is anything similar to mine...

Well, if I regret this then I regret this.

I pick up the plate of food and the partially drained tankard in my hands and start to make my way over to his corner. As I'm walking, one of his strange, long ears twitch and he looks over to me making my way to him. The only thing he does as I sit in front of him and set down my stuff is raise a brow.

That's an expression I know how to read.

"I probably did something stupid as soon as I called you a dumbass, didn't I?" My words seem to throw him for a loop, but I keep plowing through. "So, to make it up, how about we start over, with less insults this time. How's that sound?"

He doesn't say anything, his sightless eyes scanning me for something- do people usually give him shit about... whatever he is? I mean, it doesn't seem like it's _that_ much of a problem, if he didn't go running for the hills as soon as I saw his face.

After a while of him not responding, and him just _looking_ at me, I speak up again.

"Fine, how about I start us off," I throw a hand out. "The name's Dawn, and apparently I know a lot about milk."

 _That_ got something out of him. Before he could stop himself, he lets loose another snort, and a smirk starts to form on his odd face, but he shoves it away and tries to pull back on the mask.

"Ah, he laughs again!" I do a little cheer with my arms, and he looks away to try – and fail – at hiding his smile. "Wow, you're bad at the silent treatment." At that, he looks back at me with a bit of surprise.

"How did you-"

"My brother used to do the same thing all the time; you could've learned a thing or two from him. 'Course, I'm the best at breaking said treatment, so..." He just shakes his head at I shrug at him.

"You're something else, aren't you?"

"Says the shady cloak guy in the corner." I throw back at him.

He opens his mouth to retort, but thinks about it for a second before sighing. "You have a point, there," He looks at the cloak with a forlorn look. "But I need it around here, if I want to survive with my fur intact. Not everyone is going to act like you do, you know?" He gives me a pointed look at the last part.

I throw it right back. "Then they're probably pretty shitty people. At least the only thing that makes me want to sock you is your _amazing_ personality."

"You're not too eloquent with your words either, you know."

I open my mouth to throw another retort, but my stomach lets loose a growl – right, they tend to do that then you don't eat anything for a day.

"Hold on, let me shut it up," With that said, I begin the ravaging of the food that I've been neglecting to eat.

The food itself is bland – they have coffee but no _spice_ , I mean really – and it's reminiscent of what you would expect from a tavern somewhere in the boonies. 'Course, I'm not complaining – food's food, and the college diet makes anything that's edible a possibility. Slamming the food down in record time – starting to feel like a teenager with this appetite – and I lean back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. Looking over at the goat-man shows him staring with wide eyes that slowly turn into a deadpan.

"What?"

"...Nothing, you just eat... quickly." I'm starting to notice that his face is showing a bit of wariness.

"Hey, a woman's gotta when she's gotta eat, ya feel?"

"' _I_ feel'?" He gives me an odd look as he repeats the phrase.

"Yeah, it's another way of saying 'You know what I mean'." The answer only causes him to shake his head.

"I _really_ don't understand you; you're definitely not like any human I've met."

Human, he says? What, so this isn't some weird thing that I haven't heard about-

Wait. _Wait._

"Hey, um..."

"Keith." He supplies.

"Thanks, so Keith, I've been meaning to ask you this before we went on some kind of insult streak." I place my arms on the table and lean in with searching eyes. "What _are_ you?"

That's something that has been floating in the back of my mind since I saw his face. I'm not exactly the most involved in current events, but I'm pretty sure that – what I'm assuming is – a new species would be a fairly large piece that I would have seen. _Especially_ if they have such _weird_ ears...

A haunting feeling starts to crawl up my spine, but I ignore it in lieu of paying attention to Keith.

The look he gives me is similar to the one when I finished eating and he just _looked_. "You... don't know what I am? You _are_ from around here, right?"

"No, I think I'm a bit _too_ far away from home. Let's just say that I'm a foreigner."

In reality, I have _no_ clue where I am; I don't even know the name of the village that I'm in right now, for crying out loud! Besides the hints that I'm probably somewhere in Europe and _not_ in the U.S., I really don't have anything to go off of besides labeling myself as 'foreign'.

"Well, if you want to know, I'm a basitin. We usually live on the Islands out of the way of the main landmass of Mekkan."

Basitin. Strange, but I've heard weirder in fiction- wait, _Mekkan_?

"Where the hell is _Mekkan_?"

And now Keith is giving me a strange look, like I just said something unbelievably stupid. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again to give me a more intense look-over.

"Where are you from?" The question takes me aback from how intense he asked it, but I oblige.

"I'm from the U.S.," At his blank look, I elaborate. "Ya know, the United States; America? Land of liberty? Any of that ring a bell?"

The feeling seems to worsen, but I shove it back down. I am _not_ going to have a panic attack around the new guy.

"No, I've never heard of it." I almost laugh – with the amount of shit the U.S. throws in history, who _doesn't_ know about it – but I freeze when I realize he's being _serious_.

The feeling comes back with a vengeance and I shoot to my feet, the chair scrapping against the wooden floor. I can hear Keith saying something to me, but I just ignore him as I storm out of the room, a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting my mind.

There's weird goat people here called basitins, I'm apparently on a landmass called Mekkan, and if Keith's as common as everyone else is about knowing common things, then _nobody_ knows what America is.

As I walk up to the counter and get my room key from a confused Maren, a sentence floats to the forefront of the torrent.

 _I guess it's too much to ask where Greenville is, huh?_

Line break.

 **A/N: It's longer than the last prologue, so that's a neato thing.**

 **Next up, the actual first chapter.**


	2. Coffee and Keidrans

**A/N: Hope you liked the prologue, so here's some more good stuff for your personal entertainment.**

 **Or criticism, if you're into that kind of thing. Eugh.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I don't own shit. I would say that I own Dawn, but that's just crazy talk; nobody can own Dawn, for she is her own person to own.**_

Line Break.

Saying that one would drift into consciousness after they had a moment where their entire world seemed to just collapse is just _wrong_.

After the revelation of the reality of the situation that I'm in, there was a moment where I just wanted to go catatonic right there in a side room of a tavern that's dead center of where said problem is. Somehow, I managed to muster the mental prowess to suppress the shock until I'm alone in the room I bought before I just sort of – not unlike a puppet with it's strings cut – fell onto the bed that was provided. There were no tears shed, just a feeling of...

Empty. A feeling of hopelessness, because how the actual _fuck_ am I supposed to get home now. What are mom and dad going to think when they hear from my school that I've turned up missing? It's bad enough as it is with what happened to Danny-

Oh _shit_ , they're probably going to break if I don't find a way home soon.

Anyways, waking up in the morning. The light leaking through the window that floods the room is probably a decent alarm to work with – it certainly something to see, unlike my usual drawn curtains at my apartment-

Wait, who's going to feed _Tiger_?!

No, focus. One of the neighbors will probably do something about it; Mrs. Shaw makes me look tame compared to how many cats she has. She would probably include Tiger into the pack, or something.

Sitting up from the mattress, I swing myself over the side. A shiver runs through me, so I stand up and go over to my satchel to take out the light sweater that I shoved into there. Pulling the brown article over me and taking the time to slip on my shoes, I walk over to the door-

And stop when I put my hand on the doorknob.

'What am I going to do' is the most prominent question on my mind, and I really _don't know_ where to even begin looking. The fact that I'm in a unknown land that's disconnected from the rest of the world doesn't help any, and there's no real indication that tells me _why_ I'm here.

Well... I _could_ ask someone if there's a way to someplace bigger than a village. Maybe a city. But I don't even know how to _navigate_ going places on foot – knowing my luck, I would just end up getting lost in the forest and end up dying for real. But would anyone help someone that they just met that looks strange-

…

Some part of me is going to regret this decision, but I don't know any better ways.

I open the door, shifting my satchel into a more comfortable position as I lock the door behind me. I may not have anything in there, but you might never know if some random guy just breaks in to hide in there. Walking down the stairs at the end of the hall, I'm greeted with a quieter tavern area, devoid of the din that accompanied it last night. The only souls around are a couple of people with mugs that are a couple of tables apart and the familiar purple-headed woman.

Said woman looks up from a book that they look to be reading and set it somewhere behind the counter.

"'Morning. Need something?" Her tone is still coated in boredom, and from the slow business I can't really blame her; slow business is sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.

"Got any coffee?" At my question, she does the same thing as last night, where she turned around to shout something to the green haired woman in a back room, which she cheerily responds.

"Anything else?" She turns back to me, half-lidded eyes and all. Now that I take a closer look, her eyes are the same color. Weird.

"No, I'm good." That said, I drift back to the doorway that I remember holds the side room.

Some part of half-expected a certain cloaked figure to be in the same corner from last night, but I appear to be the only occupant in the room. I don't know why, it just felt like he should be here. Who knows, maybe I was just imagining things; nobody else showed up, and only _I_ saw him, after all.

Sitting down at the table I shared with him last night, I set myself in and waited for the drink to come. There's a window showing the street outside, and there are plenty of people milling about, doing their morning duties in this quaint village. Yet again, I see the clothing that they wear and I am reminded that I am nowhere near wherever home is. It feels so pointless, because how else am I going to get there if I have no clue how I got here in the first place.

Well, there's an inkling of how I got here, but it's so beyond ridiculous that I don't even want to consider it. Why's that, you ask?

Because that means I _died_ -

A fuzzy hand snaps in front of my face, and when I follow said hand up its arm to the owner I began to feel truly lost again, and not in the _lost in their eyes_ kind of way.

Keith gives me a look, and I realize that my face must've dropped.

"You alright there? You were sort of staring at the wall..." He trailed off, and started looking a bit lost, himself.

Guess I'm not the only one who finds all of this strange.

"Yeah, just haven't had my coffee yet," Which is true, and something tells me that this place doesn't have water on demand. "Did I take your spot, 'cause you sure do seem to like this table."

Cue annoyed look, followed by my little smirk.

"It's a table that's the most out of the way. If anything, you're making it worse sitting here." He somehow pulls off the look of being snooty, and I can't help but let out a huff of laughter.

"Well too bad; I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."

After that was said, a comfortable silence falls over us as we stare outside the window. Not long after, Karen – neon green _everything_ and animal ears included – brings us our separate drinks. I put a hand around the hot mug of coffee – black as can be – as I raise a brow at Keith's choice of drink.

"Drinking this early in the morning? Are you even old enough for that?" My words seem to strike a minor nerve as he shoots me another annoyed look.

" _Hilarious._ I'm nineteen, I'm sure I know what I am doing." He punctuates the statement with a swig of the awful stuff.

"Wait, you're _nineteen_? That's pretty young to be walking about doing... whatever you're doing." I say worriedly, which only seems to make him more annoyed.

"It is _not_ too young! I've been traveling for five years. You, on the other hand," He sets down his drink and leans in. "You look older than me and you probably had a hard time trying to find this village."

That cheeky little _shit_! What does he know; he hasn't gone and gotten himself suddenly kidnapped into the middle of a fucking _forest_ , now did he?!

"Them's fightin' words, fuzzball." I grip my mug as I lean in myself.

"You don't even look like you can put up a fight-"

 _SLAM!_

I suddenly launch myself backwards at the hands that slapped themselves onto the table and-

 _Wump!_ "Ah, son of a _bitch_!"

The force of my jump rocked the chair backwards too far, sending me to the ground with my head hitting the floor. My vision blackens a bit, and I'm seeing stars as voices start to pick up and another slam sounds.

Putting a hand to the back of my head – no blood, thankfully – I look back over to where said commotion was coming from.

Some guy with red hair – and a bad haircut – is holding a staff and swinging at Keith. Said basitin is weaving his way out of the blows, not a single hit landing it's mark. It's almost elegant, how he dances and dodges the offending staff.

Said bum holding the staff doesn't even look like he noticed me as he stops his attack.

"What the hell are you doing here, _keidran_?" The redhead growls out, adjusting the staff he's holding.

Now that I get a good look at him, his entire outfit _screams_ punk; he's clothed in dark articles, and he even has a _spiked choker_ around his neck. I'm starting to debate if this place is even remotely normal...

"I'm just here to have breakfast and I'm _not_ a keidran." Keith calmly says to the guy, but it only seems to just enrage the douche as he takes another swing at him. The basitin flows out of the way of the weapon, taking a few steps back and crouching slightly.

I hear footsteps next to me, looking next to me to see Karen and a guy with sky-blue hair.

"Hey, do you know this guy?" Before the woman could answer the fuckboy in goth garb speaks up.

"Stupid animal. Don't you know this is a human town?" He sneers at Keith, his fists clenching the glorified wooden stick.

"I already told you, I'm not a keidran!" Keith shouts. Guess he finally lost his patience with talking calmly.

Looking at the staff being held menacingly, it looks like he's not afraid to start swinging, again. I don't know what a _keidran_ is, but Keith looks honest enough.

"Hey smartass!" My shout seems to make everyone flinch, like they just forgot I was there. The redhead looks over to me, and he seems to be confused when I'm looking right at him. "If he says he's not a keidran, then maybe he's telling the truth. So how about you put down the stick or I'll plant your ass to the floor,"

The red head looks like he's about to retort, but it's almost like he noticed something he hasn't seen before and his eyes widen a bit.

"Wait, _Dawn?_ And Tracy?!"

The last thing I expected when I insulted someone was for them to look so excited to see me- wait, how does he know my name and who's 'Tracy'?

Before I could process this, the guy somehow sauntered over to me and the blue-haired guy and slapped said bluenette on the back, making him stumble. Guess that's Tracy.

"You're finally back! We thought you died! But o' course, you can't die!" The guy has a stupid grin on his face, like he met a long lost friend.

On the other hand, 'Tracy' looks like he rather be anywhere else but next to the douche. Can't say I blame him-

"And _Dawn_ , it's been a while since I've seen you and Trace in the same place." He directs his attention to me, and I can't help but be even more confused. Before I could ask _why he know me_ , he looks back over to Keith and sneers. "I was just taking care of this animal bothering you, if you don't mind." He addressed me, there.

Looking back over to Keith, I can't help but take a closer look at him. Now that he's standing up, I can see a _tail_ that's flicking behind him – it almost looks like a cat's. He doesn't have the cloak on like last night, and now I can see his feet under his pants.

Or should I say paws, because those sure as hell are _not_ feet.

Looking back up, I notice Keith's wide-eye stare, and I trace it back to Trace – ha – on the other side of the redhead.

"Wait, you're Trace Legacy?" There's a hopeful expression on his face. Why is he so relieved to see some random guy with blue hair?

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." Trace looks confused by the question, but before anything else could be said Keith runs up to him and _shoves_ the redhead out of the way, clinging onto Trace's shirt for dear life.

"You've got to help me!" Wait, is that _fear_ in his voice?

I look at the guy who knocked me over, and it looks like he's about to hit Keith. He takes a step forward, a remark on the tip of his tongue-

-and my hand gripping his shoulder stops him dead. When he looks back to me with a questioning look in his eyes, he flinches back at the glare that I send him.

"You're not going anywhere." My voice is low, and yet he still finds a way to keep talking.

"What do you mean, I was just-" I cut him off.

"Listen, _bitch_ ," I move to put myself between Keith and him. "In your _valiant_ effort to 'take care of this animal' that's been – supposedly – bothering me, you knocked my ass flat in the process." His eyes widen as I keep going. "So I think you've done enough _helping_ , yeah?"

He gives me a weird look, like he can't believe what I'm saying, before he looks behind me and tilts his head.

"Hey, where'd they go?"

Chancing a glance behind me, I don't see hide nor hair of either Keith or Trace. Guess they dipped while I was distracting them. Good. I look back at the redhead.

"Try not to 'help' anyone else, you might do more harm than good." With that said, I exit the room. On the way out, I see Maren marching over to the redhead, murder in her eyes.

Well, karma works fast around here.

Turning back around, I see a flash of blue at the entrance to the tavern, and I make my way over to said door. As I head over to the door, a hand goes to the back of my head and I frown. Yeah, that's going to be an ugly bump for a couple of days. It's just... what was that guy's problem? I get that Keith looks strange, but I wouldn't think it constitutes a – attempted – beating. And what was that comment about him being a keidran, what are they?

I push open the door to see Keith pulling Trace along away from the tavern, looking to be discussing something. Keith looks completely fine – I mean, he didn't even get _hit_ – and besides Trace looking like he's out of his element, he's taking the talk with the basitin well enough, from what I can see.

Hmm...

Keith said something about him needing Trace's help, but seeing how he had the situation under control, I can't really fathom the ' _why_ '. He did hint at himself traveling a lot when he talked about his cloak – which he isn't wearing currently, strangely enough – so is he looking for something?

Speaking of looking for something-

Wait. But would he be willing? It might be weird, seeing how we barely know each other, but... it's the only opportunity that's right in front of me. I _need_ to find a way home, and something tells me that I'm not going to find my ticket home sitting on my ass in this village.

 _Only one way to find out..._

I jog up to the duo, who look to be just finishing up their little talk just ending, with Keith saying something about '-the village entrance in an hour.' He looks like he's about to walk off, but stops when he spots me slowing to a walk as I approach him.

 _Okay, time to convince someone you just met to help you out. You can do this, Dawn._

"Dawn? Why are you here; I thought you were about to fight with that human?" He looks genuinely confused as to why I'm here. That can either be a good thing or a bad thing, I think.

"Nah, Maren got her hand on him for starting a bar fight. Speaking of, you're alright? I heard him say a few things that are... well, he called you something and something tells me that it's not a good thing to call someone that." That _something_ being keidran, but he doesn't need a direct reminder; he looks smart enough.

He looks taken aback – yet again – at the sort-of question. Like nobody really has any hospitality to spare him-

Oh. Calling him an animal, throwing slurs at him, the need to _hide_ in order to move freely-

...God damn it, you're an idiot, Dawn.

"...Yes, I'm fine," He then gives _me_ a look. "Although I should be asking you- you're the one who hit their-" He stops when I let loose a groan and put my hands to my face.

"Holy _shit_ I'm stupid," I rub my face, as if the action would somehow get rid of said stupidity. "He was being racist, wasn't he?" I don't hear anything at first, but then I hear him let out a sigh.

"You don't need to worry about that, I'm used to it." I drag my hands down my face and look at Keith, who has an uncomfortable look on his strange face.

"Well, remind me to tell you about where I'm from, alright? It might explain all the..." At the lack of a proper term, I just gesture to myself. "The everything." That managed to get a laugh out of him, but it's curt- lacking the usual humor he was delivering earlier.

"Well, it might explain a few things..."

"Hey, watch it. I only have so much kindness in me before I have to start throwing fists." I try to sound serious, but I can't find it in me to be so- I ended up having a small smile on my face, instead.

There's a small lull in the conversation, and I take the time to prepare myself for asking Keith about helping.

"Speaking of kindness," He gives me a quizzical look as I continue. "You were right about me not being great with navigating- I only managed to get here by following a sign on a trail about ten miles out. Beyond that... well, I'm asking if you can help me move around, if you feel like having me tag along."

Keith's eyes widen at the proposition, but then he puts on a thoughtful expression. He's actually considering it? Slow down there, Dawn, he's _considering_ , not _accepting_. There's no need to get all excited to travel with what's possibly a brand new, sentient species that would probably have the entire _world_ back home in hysterics. Now that I think about it, I'm probably so far away-

No. Don't think about that- that's how you loose it. You can't loose it now, not like with-

"I'm already traveling with Trace, and we're going to my city after we deal with whatever errand he's on."

My heart drops-

"But," It stops. "You can join _if_ there's something in it for me." He puts his hands onto his sides, and it's the first time that I noticed the sword at his side.

"What, like money?" A part of me feels downcast, and I can't help but cast my eyes downwards. "I-I barely have anything on me, and it's not even the right currency..."

But. I do have something that could work. It has the _slimmest_ chance of working, but it's all I have on me that might count for _something_. I look back up at Keith, him still giving that hard stare.

"I'm an artist of sorts- a photographer. I could give you one of my pieces." He cocks his head at the name, but gives me a deadpan.

"I'm not sure if I can carry around an art piece halfway across Mekkan,"

"No, no, it's nothing big- in _fact_..." I go into my satchel and fish out the binder within.

I go to open it, but I stop myself to take a closer look at Keith. For a first glance, there's not much I can gleam off of him as far as what he might like, and despite talking to him so much I _still_ don't know his tastes. I could go and ask, but something tells me that he's not going to cooperate and I might end up with no help around this place. But...

How about I go with something that usually works with everyone.

I look back down from Keith – who's giving me a look again – and open up the binder, flipping to the spot where I left a very specific image...

Only to stop when I realize that this is the wrong binder.

And it's the _last_ binder I expected to see sitting inside my satchel.

I almost slam the binder shut, but one specific photo stops me. I carefully pull the photo out of the clear pocket holding it, bringing it closer.

The photo itself seems innocently breathtaking- it depicts a bridge, with a small valley stretching beyond the edge of it. The valley itself shows the state of the season, with oranges, yellows, and browns peppering the evergreens that cover the hills on both sides of the valley. And at the very end, the sky is a spectrum of vibrant red and violets, and a setting sun sitting on the horizon.

Written on the white space bellow it is the word 'Farewell'.

"What's that?" Keith's voice shakes me out of the reverie, and I look back up to him to see his gaze glued to the photograph in my hands.

...I hope he forgives me for this. He's always been so forgiving before, after all.

I bring the photo forwards, his eyes never leaving it even as it widens. His own hand slowly reaches up to it to take it, and he does so gingerly. When he brings it closer, his mouth opens and closes a few times before looking up to me.

"This..." He tries to say something, but I cut in.

"Take good care of that one," Suddenly, I'm the serious one with the serious tone. "It's... important to me."

Keith looks to the photo, then back to me. Slowly, _gently_ , he takes it and tucks it somewhere on his shirt. He takes a moment to collect himself, talking when he gains his bearings.

"You can come along, but," His voice still has a tinge of awe coating it, even as he tries to instill some form of professionalism. "I'll only take you as far as my city- from there, you're on your own."

"Then I'll make it last." I give a small smile.

One that turns into a frown at a very specific fact.

"Um, you wouldn't happen to know where I can get traveling gear, do you?"

The moment's ruined, and Keith facepalms.

Line break

As I walk alongside Keith – who is _still_ grumbling – I think back to the shopping spree that we just went on. And what a shopping adventure it was.

After Keith seemed to lament on how I managed to get to the village in the first place without anything but my satchel, we went to look for whatever I might need to go on the adventure with him and Trace. The first place we went to was a sort of renaissance general store, filled with whatever someone might've needed during this time period. The things I purchased were normal traveling stuffs; some preserved rations, a water-skin, a tent, and a backpack to throw it all in. The man behind the counter _did_ give an odd look at the coinage that I handed over, but after inspecting it and finding that it _is_ silver and copper he accepted it and handed over the items.

The entire time he gave Keith wary looks, which he ignored to help me choose my things.

Next place we stopped at was a tailors. A choice which made me give him a look, which he returned. His comment of "If we're going to be traveling, we need something more sturdy than... whatever you're currently wearing." I begrudgingly agreed, going inside the place and purchasing a set of traveling clothes; clothes that are made for getting through the wilderness and not made to look great, but the person working there – a woman who looks to be reaching their elderly years – did a nice enough job in the fashion department.

When I came up short on money, she took a look at my clothes and asked if I was willing to trade them, saying that 'They're very well made, and it brings out the beauty in you, dearie.' I accepted the offer, thinking that I have enough clothes back home to offset the loss of these ones, and I went to a back room to change out of the modern clothes and into the newly bought ones. The tailor even threw in a pair of boots to go with it, after I handed over the clothes and the last bits of money I have.

Then came the last part, which Keith is being particularly bitchy about for no good reason.

Keith decided that we should have something other than salted rations and whatever can be hunted out there, so we went to a baker to grab a loaf or two. As soon as we entered the place, I could _feel_ the leer being sent my way by a greasy-looking man behind the counter. The look instantly sets me on edge, but _Keith_ thought it to be a good way to lower the price if I was to 'sweet talk' to him.

At my blunt comment on him being perverted while _his wife_ is not _ten feet away_ , needless to say Keith and I had our differences.

Anyways, we left the place loaf-less – the bread looked shitty, anyways – and started heading over to the entrance to the village. After a while of wearing the clothes, I have to hand it to the elderly woman- the clothes didn't scuff uncomfortably anywhere, and the boots fitted comfortably enough. The best part is that it's _ventilated_ , and the rising heat didn't affect me as much as my previous outfit did. The backpack is a bit heavy, but it's nothing I find problematic.

Soon, the open gates that I saw when I first arrived comes into view, and a familiar head of sky-blue is waiting underneath the arch. As we walk up, he notices us and starts to greet us with a wave, but stops when he sees me.

"Hey... um," The waving hand goes to the back of his head. "I don't remember your name, sorry."

"Dawn." I feel like I should be exasperated, but after what happened earlier I don't feel the urge to fight.

"Yeah, Dawn, why are you here?" His head cocks to the side in the perfect show of confusion.

"I'm tagging along on this little 'adventure' to find my way home. Something tells me that I need to go quite the distance to find the way, and Keith allowed me." I see his whole body fill with a bit of tension.

"Um, are you alright with me coming?" When he seemed to register my words, he takes a breath to relax.

"Yeah, just wasn't expecting it is all." Trace shifts the pack on his shoulders some. "Well, what are we waiting for?" And he begins the walk, heading out of the arch and towards the woods ahead of us and Keith following suit.

Well, time to find my way home, however far it might be.

I follow after the two, shifting both the satchel and the backpack into a more comfortable position as I walk. As we walk up the path, the village gets farther and farther behind us, and soon we round a bend that obscures the view of it behind the treeline.

Suddenly, Trace stops, looking around for something.

"Wait up, you two," Keith and I do as he says, and I can't help but feel my brow raise as he start looking up in the trees, of all places. Why would he be looking up in the trees-

"Flora? Flora! I got all of the supplies!" Trace starts shouting into the treetops, a few birds nearby fluttering off at his raised voice. I notice Keith walk up to him as I direct my attention to the canopy.

I don't see anything that stands out, other than that feeling of noticing that the trees don't match the same back home.

"Um, Trace? Who is this 'Flora'?" Keith asks him, as Trace puts down his hands and looks back at the basitin.

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Flora is a-"

If it wasn't for the fact that I was watching the treetops right then, I would've missed it. Something lost inside the leaves leaps from the tree onto the ground, rustling a bush on the side of the trail. I couldn't _quite_ see what it was, but it looked like a person. I was going to ask aloud if they were alright – someone falling from the top of that tree _has_ to have gotten hurt – when said figure walks out of the bushes like they were always there.

And I'm treated with a sight that stops all thought- not unlike seeing Keith for the first time.

The figure that walks out of the brush is humanoid in shape, similar to Keith, but other than the general shape being similar that's where the similarities end. For one she – and it's most definitely a she with the figure she's rocking – looks like a walking _tiger_ , of all things. Her face is definitely feline in nature, and the eyes look cat-like. While her feet remind me of how Keith's feet are like – reminiscent of paws – her hands are, well, _hands_.

The tiger lady is waving said hand at Trace, a huge, fang-filled smile on her feline face.

"Hiya, Trace!" She sounds so _excited_ to see him, and just saying the words seem to make her smile grow even _more_.

She stops dead in her tracks when Keith abruptly steps forward, shoving Trace behind him and drawing his sword.

"It's a _keidran_! Trace, let me handle this!" He takes a threatening step forward.

I can feel my eyes pop open when I realize _he's going to actually attack her_.

"Keith, _stop_!" Trace's voice sounds so _desperate_ , throwing a hand out as if it can stop him.

His advance doesn't slow _why isn't he stopping_ -

"Keith, what are you-" I couldn't finish my sentence before everything decides to get even _weirder_.

And _oh_ , does it get really fucking _weird_.

As Keith pulls back his sword arm to swing the weapon, he suddenly stops. The source of what caused his cease in momentum comes from a yellow glow that envelops his entire body.

"What the hell?!" Keith tries to move, but his efforts prove fruitless as he doesn't even budge an inch.

The glow seems to pulse, and like it was a response to some command the basitin goes _flying_ , slamming into a tree on the opposite side of the road. Keith almost slides down the side of it comically, hitting the ground with a thud.

What. The. _Hell?_

I... I just don't know, anymore. I was broken at the walking, talking tiger, but weird voodoo shit? No, just no.

" _Ow_... my head. What just happened?" Trace groans out. I look over to him, about o ask him about what _the hell_ just happened-

And I see a fading yellow glow in his eyes, eyes that look around in confusion as he slouches in exhaustion. Did... did _Trace_ do this? What's with the glowing eyes- I can barely take new species suddenly popping up, but glowing eyes is another thing entirely.

Keith gets up and marches over to Trace and starts arguing with him, gesturing over to the tiger woman multiple times as he expresses his... opinion about her. Trace tries to talk back to him calmly, but Keith seems a bit too riled up to put up with him. Meanwhile, I take a look back at the tiger.

She looks a bit shaken by everything – still standing in the same spot as before – but seems ultimately relaxed by the force that threw the basitin away.

Keidran. There's that word again, the same from the sign hanging in the door of that tavern, the very same that the redhead called Keith right before he started calling him an animal. Is... is _this_ what a keidran is? Just a bunch of tiger people- if so, then the redhead needs to get their eyes checked. But why are these keidran so _dangerous_ sounding, like it's some sort of taboo?

Focusing back in on the situation-

-I deadpan at the supposedly 'dangerous creature' chasing after a butterfly- which is giving off a blue glow.

...Well, other than what looks like a grown woman playing with butterflies, they way in which she does it reminds me of a cat when they find something to toy around with. It's hard to see her as something terrible when they're acting like children. Really, I wish I had a camera on me-

Wait.

I go fishing around in my satchel, letting out a tiny cheer at my old camera- the very first one I got my hands on. After checking to see if it's ready, I look back up to her still playing around with the glowing insect. Putting the old thing up to my eye, I wait for the perfect moment to capture it...

 _Flash!_

' _There..._ ' I put down the camera and hold out my hand in preparation of the photograph that spits out the front end. It prints out, snatching it up in the waiting hand and, in a moment of pure cliché, I give the piece a little shake. Looking up from the still-processing picture, I see everyone giving me and the things in my hand an odd look as I slide the camera back into the satchel.

"What?" I ask, but none of them really seem to notice my words. Looking over them, I see Trace and the tiger giving the photograph an odd look, but the look in Keith's eye says that he has an idea of what just happened.

"What _is_ that?" I jump at the voice that's _right next to me_ , turning my head to see the tiger giving the picture a closer look. Currently, it's still black, but...

"Give it a second..." I turn myself a bit so that she can see it easier – and see it when it's _not_ upside down – waiting for a little bit longer...

The color starts to bleed through, and the shape of the picture finally comes into view. The tiger woman has a look of pure joy on her feline face, and her hair jostles slightly from the movement she was in the middle of. Between her grasping hands is the glowing blue butterfly, forever captured in this moment between her claws despite not having been caught in the first place.

Looking up, I see the tiger holding the same expression as Keith's from earlier. Silently, I hand it over to her, and a hand comes up to take it- just as gently as how Keith did it, as if the picture will disappear if she was to be too rough. Slowly, a smile spreads across her face, and soon she's practically running over to Trace.

"Trace, look! It's me!" Despite the energy running through her, she still shows off the photograph gingerly, and Trace proceeds to drop his jaw at the moment captured forever.

Well, I _was_ considered to be one of the best back home; a rising professional photographer who could make it big. Guess I can brag a _bit_ if people who have _never_ seen photography before are so excited to witness it for the first time.

"So," I say aloud, and everyone's attention swings to me. "Not to burst your bubble of wonder, but can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" I point a finger in the tiger woman's direction. "And can you also tell me why you called her a keidran, Keith?"

At first, it seemed like a spell was broken, and whatever presence of normality that was in the situation popped like a balloon. They seemed to forget that they all look so different in the wonder of photography, and bringing them back in causes them to start shuffling awkwardly.

But the last thing I said made them look at me like I've lost my mind. Well, except for Trace- he just looks confused in general. I'm starting to thing that's a constant for him as it is for me.

"Wait, how could you _not_ know what a keidran is?" Keith sounds even _more_ incredulous than ever before- and is that a touch of _anger_ in his voice?

"So you know how I'm a foreigner, right?" At his nod I continue. "Back where I'm from, we've _never_ heard of keidran, much less know what they are." For all I know keidran are just a bunch of tiger people, and I _have_ to be missing something if people hate them so much. Some sort of political issue, maybe?

...And he's giving me that look again- like a mix between exasperation and me growing a second head. I take a quick glance upwards at the sky and I _swear_ we've already wasted some time to get to... well, wherever we're heading to.

"How about this," I say aloud, gathering the attention of everyone. "We just get moving, and we can talk about all of this when we break for camp. How does that sound?"

Keith scowls. "There's no way that I'm traveling with that _keidran_."

I scowl right back. "Keith, you're being ridiculous." He just throws his arms up.

"I am _not_ \- if you were from around here, then maybe you would understand how much of a danger they are!"

"Yeah, well you definition of 'dangerous' apparently likes to chase around butterflies. _Whoa_ , I feel so _threatened_." Sarcasm is _dripping_ from my voice. "And you're one to talk! This morning some guy was literally trying to _kill you_ because you weren't human! I bet you can barely walk around from town to town without having to wear that cloak of yours, either!"

He flinched at that, hard. That shopping that was done earlier was all done with the cloak up. Something tells me that he would've been chased out of the shop if it wasn't for the article, instead he only got strange looks. It's a trade off for him – having to hide everywhere – but it's one that allows him that little bit of freedom to do _normal things_ , like shopping.

And here he is doing _exactly_ what those people would've done if they saw him without it, which is getting me close to being pissed off.

After a few tense moments, where a glare is met with another and the two on the side watching between us, Keith lets out an explosive sigh.

" _Fine._ I'll travel with her for now. But we go to my city first. Afterwards, do what you like. I won't be with you, though," He turns and starts walking down the path. "But Trace... believe me, if you go with that keidran, she will eventually kill you." He lets the words sink in as he continues down the dirt road.

I look back at the two, watching Trace give the tiger woman another look. He looks like he should be wary of her, but if these two were traveling before Keith and I showed up, then he's probably telling Keith's advice to stuff it.

I go to walk up to them, but decide to skirt them a bit- they probably need their space. Probably would think I would do something.

"I wouldn't worry too much about fuzzball- he has a tendency to say a lot of dumb things." I think of anything else I could say, but I end up shrugging.

" _I heard that!_ " Keith yells back. "And _don't_ call me fuzzball!"

"Love ya too, _fuzzball_!" I shout back at him, and catch a glimpse of an annoyed look before he stomps ahead. We should start going before he leaves us in the dust. I give an exaggerated eye roll to the two next to me – which brings out an _adorable_ meow-giggle from the tiger woman – before walking after the fuming basitin. After a few steps, I hear the duo behind me also start their march.

I look back at the two, seeing them walk side-by-side. They seem so comfortable with each other- it's almost like Trace doesn't care if... Flora? Is that her name?

"Hey," The two look up at me as I walk backwards to face them. "Your name _is_ Flora, right?"

"Yeah, why?" She tilts her head, and I see Trace mimic the action. Whoa, these two are in sync with each other.

"The name's Dawn; it's nice to meet ya." I slow down a bit and thrust out a hand. Flora gives the appendage a strange look, but slowly puts put a striped hand to clasp it. The hand is warm, soft- I have a hard time letting go after shaking her hand because _wow I hope this isn't racist_ – _speciest, whatever you call it_ – _but it reminds me of Tiger_.

"There," I turn back around. "Now we can't call each other strangers, yeah?" Not hearing a response, and looking back to see them not really looking like they can continue the conversation, I pick up the pace to where Keith is and follow somewhere behind him.

Now, time to ready myself for my worst enemy yet: hiking through a forest.

Line break.

 **A/N: This one didn't get as far as the other first chapter did, but the length is almost the same. Guess that goes to show how much better I am at fitting in more info in first person.**

 **So, this is a nice double post to hold you guys over; the rest of it will be slowly – but surely – put up, and then you guys (the ones from the old story) will start seeing chapters that will truly start to deviate from the original.**

 **On the other hand, if you're new, then just ignore what I said above this.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter, and have a good one!**


	3. Questions, Questions, Questions

**A/N: Not really much to say, other than here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I think it's quite obvious I don't own Two Kinds. Don't make the mistake of assuming that, okay?**_

Line Break.

We managed to get quite a bit of traveling down today, if I do say so myself. Most of the time – however – was our group of four traversing the wild in silence- other than a panicked shout from Flora early on, but looking back to her just showed her stuffing something into her shirt and running to catch up. The rest of the time?

Nothing. I'm beginning to think that this is going to be a normal occurrence, although I can't really complain. Something tells me that if everyone does start to converse, it'll end up with Keith getting pissy about Flora – again – and whatever tense peace I managed to help make would end up breaking. So I guess silence is the better of the two evils, in this case.

Not too awfully long ago, the sun started to set- sending the sky into it's orange-violet spectrum and Keith saying something – the first words for _hours_ – about finding a spot to break for camp. Outwardly, I just replied with a 'whatever you say, fuzzball' – which he hated – while inwardly my legs were screeching for an end to it all. But that's neither here nor there, currently.

What is current,is when we made camp, I discovered that I wasn't really meant for this kind of adventuring life.

"..."

"...It's a tent?" Keith – who just finished whipping something up with the rations we had – said, looking at the _thing_ in front of us with a shocked look.

"Just say it- it's terrible."

"...Yeah," He gives me a look like he gave up, himself. "It's terrible."

"Hey, are you guys alright..." I hear Flora trot up next to me, her words trailing off as she notices the mess in front of us. "Is... that supposed to be a _tent_?"

I don't say anything, but my shoulders sag a bit at her incredulous tone. Keith pokes the... _tent_ with one of his weird foot-paws and-

-the whole thing collapses, now just a pile of cloth, sticks and string.

"..."

"..."

"...I'm going without a tent." I turn on the ball of my feet and stomp back to the fire, where Trace is currently eating some sort of salted meat – I _think_ it's beef? – and plant myself on a fallen log across from him.

I look inside the pot – I have _no clue_ where Keith keeps this thing – and see some rations mixed with some sort of herb. As to what it is, I can barely recognize what some stuff was back home, let alone what could grow in a place where there's cat people and magic.

Oh, and I guess there's Keith, too. Whatever he is.

I go through the motions of eating my portion of the food as the two non-humans of the group walk back to the fire- Flora sitting with Trace and Keith with me. While I eat – read; _ravage_ – my meal, I can't help but notice the... divide between the group. I can see the negative looks being cast by Keith towards Flora, and the nervous ones that both blue-haired human and tiger send towards _us_.

Yes, that includes me, but I'll just write it off as being new. The ones at Keith, however...

Yeah. No need to explain that.

It's a bit too quite – bordering on awkward – and I think up of something as I polish off my food.

"So," My voice is loud as it breaks the silence. "You did pretty good with the meal, fuzzball. It's almost like you did this for about four years or so." The jab is pretty obvious, but snark is really all I have at this point to get Keith to talk. Speaking of, he turns to me – glancing at my empty hands, devoid of any food – and scowls at me.

"What did I tell you about that nickname?" If it's even possible, he scowls _harder_.

"That you love it so much to where you decided to make it your official name?" I can't help the small, shit-eating grin that crawls on my face. Keith breaks my previous expectations and manages to pull off a 'bitch face', even with his strange-looking one.

I hear the two across the fire snickering. It's better than the quiet that we had before- much better. Three out of the four people who were tense now have smiles on their faces, and I can find a way to make Keith feel better later.

But now, I rather have my questions answered.

"Now that we're all nice and loose," I stretch a bit, settling as best as one can on a log. "How about we have that talk you promised me?"

Really, though, I can only guess as to what is going on with all this keidran business. As far as I know, they're not human – that a certain redhead pointed out – and that people refer to them as 'dangerous animals' – thanks to a certain fuzzball – which... doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture. As to what extent the ugliness goes, well...

Hence the talk.

All of the people around the fire – excluding Trace; he has a touch of understanding on his face as he looks at me – seem to just look at me with a 'what am I going to do with you' look. However, slowly, both Trace and Keith's gazes settle on Flora. Said tiger woman gives each of them a look, then sighs.

"Alright, so... Dawn?" At my nod, she keeps going. "How much _do_ you know about keidrans?"

"Well, all I know about them is that you're one, but that's really it," I think about it, then add another tidbit. "And I guess Keith doesn't like being called one."

"Okay..." She looks like she has to psych herself up for talking. "I'll give you the basics. There are three different types of keidran: felines, canines and vulpines. Normally, they represent the three major territories – and variants – of keidrans, which are the tigers, the wolves, then the foxes. There _are_ other smaller territories, but I don't know much about them..." Flora tries to add on to what she says, but something seems to stop her.

"Is there something wrong?" I ask, at first only getting silence. Trace scoots closer to her on the log, placing a hand on her shoulder- which she leans into. Taking a deep breath, she continues.

"I-I'm fine. But the relationship between humans and keidrans are... hostile." She stops there, like it answers everything. Everyone is looking at me, gauging me, but I could already guess that part.

"I get the hostile part, but _how_ hostile are we talking, here? Second class citizens? Segregation? Illegal immigrants?"

Both Flora _and_ Keith give me an skeptical look at that one. Trace, on the other hand, looks a bit curious himself.

"You really don't know?" When I shake my head, she glances at Keith, who only shrugs.

"Humans enslave keidrans; they always have."

My thoughts break, just like last night. Every part of me wants to go slack while another wants to keep going to ask something else. It feels like an eternity before curiosity brings me back up.

"And... nobody does _anything_ about it?" The question seems to confuse her.

"Well, a lot of humans participate in it-"

"No, no," I'm leaning closer towards the tiger woman, not caring of the smoke from the campfire blowing in my face. "Does nobody do anything about getting rid of it?"

"No." Keith answers my question, and is starting to cast me worried looks.

Nonetheless, the response floors me- I lean back, trying to keep myself together because _what the actual fuck_. Isn't slavery a _national crime_ on _life itself_? I remember there being a statement being said that any form of modern slavery – trafficking, I think – is _very much_ not supposed to be around, anymore.

But they're not human. It's in human nature to demonize things, and when the thing you're trying to dehumanize _isn't human_...

"Oh, _god_..." I put my hands on my face, curling into myself a bit. Despite the fire right in front of me, I can't help but feel cold.

"What?" I peer through my hands, and Flora looks so _confused_. Was she a slave once? Did she have to deal with all of that- why nobody can seem to trust each other. I've always kept my distance, thinking that _I_ might be the problem- could she be thinking I was-

Slow down, Dawn. Just... keep talking.

"Well," I take a breath, trying to not make it shudder as it comes out. "I... back home, stuff like this is illegal. It's been outlawed for over a century." Now it's _their_ turn to look shocked, the looks only making that cold feeling worse.

I'm so far away from home, and staying here longer only makes the feeling cement further. It's like traveling back in time, and _all_ the elements of doing so is here to screw with everything. Ugh, Danny would _hate_ this place-

I shove the thought – and the feelings from this entire info dump – to the side, and I clap my hands together- which startle everyone present.

"Well, stuff like this is a bit too depressing, if you ask me," I sit up straight, wiggling a bit to try and get comfortable. "We're supposed to be going on an adventure, yeah? So how about we _act_ like it, instead of getting all mopey and shit." I lean back in with a grin on my face.

"Anyone got any drinks?"

Line break.

Turned out that both Trace _and_ Keith – guess he likes to loosen up sometimes, too – had a bit of drink on them, pulling out mugs and filling them up to begin the night- this time with a less depressing atmosphere. I gladly accepted the ale, if only for the side effect of relaxing a bit. Sadly, I had to practically down the entire thing of the stuff in order to get even a _hint_ of a buzz to start. Thankfully, everyone present – besides fuzzball, of course – participated in some form of idle chitchat, which made forgetting what happened earlier all the easier.

Currently, I'm holding back my snickers at Flora's state of mind. Keith made a comment of keidrans getting drunk easily off of 'human ale' – _real creative of them_ – which translates to basically the entire species being lightweights.

"Hah, I just notif'd how funny you humans look without fur on." Speaking of the tiger, Flora is leaning heavily on Trace, intently – _drunkenly_ – studying his face. Said human has a fish-out-of-water look, sitting completely still as the feline laughs and hugs him.

The duo have gotten awfully comfortable, as time went on. They sat close before, and while they seemed friendly towards one another, now one is literally climbing over the other. It's almost like-

"Hey Flora," Keith suddenly speaks up. "How do you _really_ feel about all of us?" Flora turns to look at him, but has to detach herself from Trace in order to do so. When she does this she sways a bit then steadies herself.

"Huh? Wellsh, I likes Trace. He's nice to me, not like other humans. Exshept for you, Dawn," She sluggishly blurts out. "Yous a cool human, too. I know humans an' keidran aren't s'pose to get along, bu' I can't help it." She takes a second, feeling satisfied with her slurred speech, then seems to remember something.

"...oh, an' you? Umm... you're kinda a jerk."

I snort at that part, which turns into a laugh when I see the offended look on Keith's face. Guess he got what he deserved there- Flora's brutally honest, in that regard. Although the 'cool' comment got me- I don't really see why-

Oh yeah, the photo. Duh.

After that part was said and done, Trace – like the little oblivious gentleman he is – escorted Flora to her tent. The little outburst where Flora 'seductively' tempts him got me laughing again and _wow_ I haven't laughed like this in a long time-

The laughter trails off when I see the look on Keith's face.

"Hey, what's with the constipated look?" The fuzzball wipes the look off of his face – how does he do it so _quickly?_ – and faces me with a questioning one.

"You don't find it weird how... close those two are?" He downs more of his ale, him having savored the bitter stuff unlike me.

"Well, yeah. But it's not like it's _my_ business what they do behind closed doors, yeah? I mean, I've never seen keidran before today, but it's probably a normal-ish thing here, right?" I go to drink from my cup before remembering that – oh yeah – I drank it all, already.

"No. It's definitely not a normal thing." A smirk – accompanied by an eyeroll – followed my failed attempt to drink from my mug, then he takes another drink himself.

"Well," I set the mug into my pack, which I dragged over when the drinks came out. "More power to them, then. As I said- it's not my business."

As I sit there – Keith scoffing at my answer, but not saying anything in return, the jerk – I begin to feel the alcohol start to kick in, and I feel the urge to not sit in one place. I stand up and start walking towards what I _think_ is a good are to go-

"Hey, where are you going?" I look back to see Keith giving me a look.

"Don't get your panties in a twist- I'm just going to walk off the alcohol."

"I'm... pretty sure that's not a thing." He just gives me another one of those looks. Well screw him, I'm a big girl- I can go for a walk without having someone glued to my side.

"Whatever, I'm not going too far, so don't worry- 'cause I know you secretly do, fuzzball." With a smirk sent at him – and a scowl received – I turn back towards the woods before me. Now...

Well, as I walk into the brush, I feel a shudder form and crawl down my back as I let out a shaky breath. A cool breeze rushes through, and whatever heat that I had – from the drinks, the clothes warmed from the fire – is gone with the wind.

Now, I can think alone.

Line break.

 _ **Somewhere in the trees...**_

A cool spring breeze brushes by, and despite everything that is covering me I can't help but shiver. I could be resting right now, but the weather _could_ be worse to stay up in. However, the mission I am on requires me to stay just out of sight, watching where the group of four as they slowly drag themselves into their tents for the night. It was going along smoothly, and half of them – including Flora – had went to sleep already. All I had to do was wait until the rest do the same, wake up Flora, and leave the rest up to her. Usually, this would've been over quick enough for me to leave and bring back up the plans for Flora and I's wedding, all of this mess being left behind.

Usually, unfortunately, doesn't fit right now.

The more I pay attention to the happenings of the night, the more... confusing it gets. The biggest part being the other human – this one female – not acting like any human he has ever met. One thing he has learned is that any human – no matter what – will always have _some_ animosity towards his kind. There will always be a human that will look at keidrans and think them nothing but animals. _This_ human, however, claims to be a foreigner – wherever she was from is beyond him – and has _never heard_ of a keidran.

When I remember looking at her face when Flora told her that humans commonly enslave our kind, she looked shocked, revolted, and _angry_ -

I silently shove the thought to the side as I prepare to move. Some time after Flora was taken to a tent, said human went off for a walk. I don't know who she is, but every time I look at her I get this _chill_ crawling up my back, like... something is _wrong_.

I need to keep an eye on this one, even if I delay _his_ death.

Quietly leaping from branch to branch, I trail after her. None of the other people accompanying Flora discovered me, this human not even checking for anyone stalking her. I guess the comment of her not being from around here hold _some_ merit. She is even struggling with trying to move through the brush!

Soon, she breaks through into a clearing and I have to stop myself before I run out of branches to hop. The break in the wood reveals a small, burbling creek with a gravel shore. On said shore is a lopsided tree, as if it still tried to grow despite the stones in the way. It was here, where the human finally stopped. On the way here, it was obvious that she was doing more than 'going for a walk', her pace increasing and her arms occasionally hugging herself when the brush didn't get in her way. Then she does...

Nothing. The human just stands there, her gaze looking to be fixated on the scene in front of her. She seems frozen in place, as if she suddenly turn into stone.

After a while of nothing but her standing, I turn back around to do as I came here to. It doesn't look like she's going to move anytime soon.

Line break for dog-people.

I watch as Flora – shocked expression still in place – turns back to the camp, the dagger gripped tightly in her hand. She walks with purpose, and I know that she is going to follow through with killing that templar _bastard_. I just wish that lying to her wasn't necessary- but if it ends with _him_ dead, then it will be alright in the end. I move back into the trees, the boughs holding steady as I jump back away from the camp.

As I do that, my thoughts drift back towards the human that's not at the camp, currently. The more I think about her, the more that feeling seems to worsen- it's almost shouts _danger_ , but I've seen her barely navigate a stretch of _woods_. It makes no _sense_ -

"... _sniff_..."

I stop, my ears going straight up to locate the sound. Is... is that _crying_? It almost sound like...

Going off of where I heard it last – and my curiosity getting the better of me – I begin striding through the canopy. The closer I get to where I heard it, the more I hear, and it is _definitely_ the sound of someone crying. Did some poor sod get lost, and finally broke-

I reach a familiar clearing, the one where I left the human standing at the shore. At first glance, nothing really seems to be out of place-

Except that she isn't standing anymore, instead curled up in the crook of the tilted tree. Her arms are wrapped around her legs, which are pulled up to her chest, with a small, thin object held in one hand.

Why is she there, now? I slowly climb down from the tree I perched on, landing onto the ground with a small thump. When I look up to see if she heard me, a breath leaves me in a sigh when she doesn't move-

Her shoulders shake slightly, and another sniffle escapes her. It was with this final tremor of her body, that the thing in her hand slipped from her hand, slowly drifting to the ground.

…

I shouldn't.

But... she said it herself, that she isn't from around here. And if Flora's drunken comment of her being alright when they first met-

No! Why am I thinking about talking to a _human_?! I'm having one getting killed somewhere behind me, and I'm thinking about _walking up to this one_? No, there's no way-

Another sob escapes her, and this time I hear words.

"I... _hate_ this place, Danny..."

'Danny'? And what does she mean that she 'hates this place'?

Before I could stop myself – I've already messed up _one_ woman, damn it – I've already started breaking the treeline.

Line break.

"I... _hate_ this place, Danny..."

It wasn't exactly my plan to do any of this- all of this moping was supposed to be that: moping. Not... all this sobbing. I guess being here was a lot more stressful than I thought.

Well, I _did_ thought I died, at one point. Then that all went down the drain when I ended up in... Mekkan? Whatever this place is. And whatever this place is, it's _the worst_ , in theory. I mean, mass slavery hasn't been around for a long ass time, and yet I ended up in a place where they enslaved an entire _species_ that almost everyone hates with some sort of passion. Then there's the fact that the only thing that reminds me of home is _coffee_ , and anything technological has yet to be seen and _holy shit I'm so far away from home_ -

Another short sob breaks out, and I try to curl back in to rein in any more. Yeesh, I haven't been _this_ bad since-

No. Don't go there, Dawn. Just... _no_.

I squeeze my hands together, only noticing the emptiness in my hand, where I held the photo. I... thought it would be good for me to partake in my hobby, and I tried to look for a place that looked well enough to be noteworthy. I stumbled upon this creek, and after taking a while to look it over I decided it was worth a shot. The lighting could've been better – it isn't the full moon – but there's enough light to capture everything.

And quite suddenly, all of the walls I put up to keep myself in one piece just... fell.

So here I am, curled up next to a tree while I wait for all of this to end because _why did this place had to look so much like home_ -

 _Snap._

I whip my head up from behind my legs, looking around in the low light from the moon to try and find what made that sound-

...Oh. That's... new?

Standing in front of me, lightly bathed in moonlight, is a _wolf_. He – I _think_ they're a guy – is standing on two legs and wearing clothes, and a small part of me reminds itself that this is also a keidran, if what Flora said is right. I can't tell much color, but the one thing that stands out is the eyes- an eerie glow of amber that seem to pierce right through me.

Oh, and he's holding a spear.

...Holy _shit_ he has a weapon _is he going to_ -

He walks closer, and before I could think I involuntarily curl in farther, never breaking contact with the amber orbs in front of me. But he never does anything violent, just walks close enough to where I could reach out and poke his weird paw-feet. When he does get that close, he pauses for a second, then reaches down with his free hand-

-and picks up the dropped photo. Slowly, he brings it up to his face, the unreadable expression from before turning into a jaw-drop the longer he observes the picture. He even looks up from the piece of film to look at the clearing, then back down to it.

I couldn't help but break out into a fit of _giggles_ , of all things. One that brings the attention of the wolf back to me.

"S-Sorry," I take in a shaky breath, trying to push back down the earlier sobbing. "That look never gets old- the whole 'surprised wonder' one, that is."

The only response I get is a stare, and after a few moments of it I couldn't help but squirm under the intensity of it. Thankfully, he looks away to give the photo another once-over, then his furred hand extends the photo in my direction. I raise my own hand, but I hesitate for a second, then continue forwards-

-only to lightly push the hand back towards him.

"You can keep that one- I have enough of them to last me a while."

I feel a small part of me start to get annoyed at the surprise that stretches across his face – it's far too common here, it almost _hurts_ – but he pulls his hand back, tucking the photo into his shirt. Again, he extends his hand, and I can see the sandy-gray color of the fur. Untangling myself from the fetal position, I grabbed the offered hand and – with a yelp that _didn't_ come out of my mouth – I'm suddenly hoisted to my feet.

After brushing off my clothes, I head over to the creek to splash some water on my face. After _that_ much crying, my face probably looks _worse_ from how red it is. Well, that and the possible snot that was running down it. And the stuff probably got on my clothes...

I was thorough with the rinse, and when I turn back around I see the wolf still standing there. What followed was a small stretch of silence, where I only just realized that he hasn't spoken yet, and it feels wrong to just keep referring to him as 'wolf'. Thankfully – _again_ – he speaks up for the first time.

"I normally don't do this, you know." The voice – one that's tinged with an unique accent – says, and an equally odd expression covers his canine visage.

What does he mean- oh.

"Oh, yeah, the whole... _racism thing_. That."

" _Normally_ , I would have to... you know," He shakes the spear in his hand, then shrugs.

Oh. Yeah, it's a good thing he decided not to poke me. Viciously. With, like, a sharp poking stick-

Okay, alcohol, that's enough.

"Well, you _could_ say you didn't see me," I throw out there. It's not the greatest escape plan, but working on being a bit tired and tipsy... yeah.

After a few moments of the conversation not moving forward, I sigh and step forward to put out a hand. He flinched a bit, angling the spear downwards slightly, then puts it back up to look at my hand.

"How about this; it's nice to have not met you..." I trail off at the lack of a name, waiting to see if he reciprocates.

It takes a while – and the frustration on his face is now visible, _wow_ – before he puts out his own fuzzy hand, clasping it in mine. Or the other way around because _holy shit_ his hands are huge compared to mine.

It's also so _soft_...

"Sythe," We shake hands, and I see a fanged grin come across his face. "Nice to have not met you..." He does the same trailing off.

I smile, saying, "Dawn." I start to pull back-

I see the confusion on his face, and there's a moment where the intensity of his glowing amber eyes reaches a new high-

"Dawn." And it's gone, back to that toothy smile.

... _Okay._ I'm too tired to question that. I give the wolf one last nod, then I start heading back towards the campsite, feeling lighter than when I walked out here.

It takes me a while to find my way back to the camp – if anything, the ale sets in _more_ , and being darker than hell out doesn't help – I see the final embers of the campfire glowing in the center of the familiar clearing. A small part of me almost expected Keith to still be out here, waiting for me to come back to nag about how long it took for me to 'go on a walk', but there's nobody there-

-except a knife on the ground, along with a smattering of blood.

I'm only just noticing the way how everything is _silent_ , like something went down and now there's _nobody left_ -

I bolt to the knife, picking it up and start frantically looking around, but it's too dark to make out anything in the treeline.

"Hello? Anyone?! _Guys?!_ " I can feel my heart starting to thump harder, my head on a swivel trying to find _something_ -

"Up here!"

My head juts upwards, following the voice to...

"...Why are you in a tree?"

Yep. The one and only basitin is currently up in a tree, hanging on for dear life. If it wasn't for the fact that I thought I was in danger, the situation would look comical.

"Trace threw me up here then chased after that keidran!"

...Yeah, I'm just tired to deal with any of that noise. How about I deal with what's in front of me.

"Can you get down fine?"

"...Maybe?"

Good enough for me. I drop the knife and start heading back to my tent, then a tent off to the side from the... crumpled mass catches my eye. It's perfectly made, and doesn't look like a tap of an odd foot won't destroy it.

Well, you know what they say; lift your meat, you lose your seat.

"I'm going to take your tent!" I shout up to Keith as I snatch up my stuff, ignoring the protests shot down at me as I crawl inside my recently acquired den.

I tossed his stuff out- I'm not _cruel_ , c'mon now.

Prepare for trouble.

 _I have mixed opinions about the rain._

 _The precipitation has a way of bringing out the best in some scenes, coating the area in saturation that makes thing... pop. The way light can reflect of off walls not normally disposed to bouncing off light, how it gives contrast after it washes off the dust of the suburbs, and so much more. It's honestly breathtaking, how a bit of water can change everything._

 _On the other hand, as I run through said shower without an umbrella, my shoes making soggy squish noises with every step, I can do with a little bit less of it when it gets everywhere. I try to pick up the already quick pace as I round the last bend, showing me the last stretch home. Said rain only seems to pick up even more, the wind making it look like it's raining directly in my face instead of on my head. The street has that look to it that I described earlier – the dark of the asphalt contrasted by the lights of the streetlamps – but honestly I can barely appreciate it before another gust of wind blows more water into my face._

 _I soldier on the last bit of distance, coming onto the fence gate that I have trouble unlatching, thanks to the shivering rain. Finally getting it open, I slam it closed behind me as I rush up to the front porch to escape the heavy shower._

 _The front porch isn't anything crazy, the only things decorating it a porch swing for two – three if we feel like pushing it – and the odd plant here and there. We would have more chairs for people coming over every now and then, but the only people that we tend to have over are friends of Ma and Papa, and such. No family reunions- the only ones we have are us, despite how odd we are at first glance._

 _But to me, it was always normal. The people who raised me were always that- Ma and Papa. Papa is my birth father, but my birth mother died when I was born. Suddenly, he had to end up juggling being a single father and grieve the loss of a loved one. Then, soon after – whether it was out of desperation turned lucky or was meant to be – he met Ma._

 _Ma, despite us looking nothing alike, is the best mother I could ask for. She had a job that was extremely well paying, and I've been told that the two meeting – Ma and Papa, that it – was something straight out of a romcom- complete with hilarious high-jinks and everything. Ma has dark skin – unlike mine or Papa's light tones – and her hair is always put into a dreaded bun of dark hair. Her eyes were something that I could say that we almost share, with me getting my birth mother's dark brown and not Papa's hazel._

 _Soon after the two married, they had a kid of their own, Danny. My own little brother, only two years younger than me. He has most of everything Ma has, and if someone were to put the two of us together they couldn't tell if we were related at all._

 _'Course, if any of those people were to spend some time with us, they would know the 'Underwood crass', as Papa likes to call it. It all comes from Ma – she is the true master of it – the two of us could put anyone who tries to act like they're the shit into their place._

 _I try to shake off as much of the water that's dripping off me as I unlock the door, stepping inside and wipe my soaked shoes onto the welcome mat. After a while I end up kicking off the things, along with the socks, onto the designated pile for wet footwear. Sighing, I skip going to the rest of the house and go straight to the stairs, climbing them two at a time while thanking the carpet on them for having good traction, unlike hardwood floors._

 _Reaching the top of the stairs, I turn to the closed door opposite of mine and knock._

 _"I'm home, Danny! How're ya?" I don't wait for a response as I head into the open room behind me- my room._

 _I set my soaked bag and satchel as I shut the door behind me, heading to the closet to change into something less water-logged. The room is painted in a warm brown, something that reminds me of a wood color and healthy earth. There are pictures –_ _ **not**_ _posters, Papa, get it right – here and there, depicting some kind of art taken from a camera. There's one of a beautiful mountain lake, said mountain looming behind it in the background, while a lush field covers the foreground, and a clear blue sky to cover it all up. That one's my favorite, above all else._

 _Soon, I change out of the soaked items and into comfy, worn clothes. The tank top is a navy blue color, and I threw on some gray sweats._

 _'My transformation from hipster into trashy is complete.' I think jokingly._

 _Danny still hasn't responded, and I can't help but let out a huff. I love him to death, but the excuse for not going to school today was that he felt 'sick'. Honestly, it was the oldest trick in the book, but the act he put up was oddly convincing. He looked so pitiful..._

 _I walk out into the hall to bang on his door again. "Hey bro, you alright? Need anything warm to help with your 'illness'." I couldn't help but smirk as I wait for his return jab, like always does._

 _…_

 _The smirk slowly slides off as silence greets me. Even the fan he usually keeps on in his room – the air flow in his rooms sucks – is off._

 _"Alright, you better not be naked, Dan." I turn the knob on the door, throwing it open to-_

 _-a strangely clean room. His room is damn-near spotless, and everything is put back where it was._

 _It was known that Danny has the messiest room, and to see it this clean without Ma threatening him sends a chill down my spine. He likes to paint a lot – as evidenced by the plethora of supplies in the corner – and there's always something spotted, somewhere. But there's not an area to be marked- everything is just so_ _ **clean**_ _-_

 _I spot a single piece of paper, laying almost innocently on his desk off to the side. There's something written on it, and it's the only thing that's out of place in this familiar-turned-alien room. I picked up the piece of paper and started to glance at it's contents._

 _A few seconds in, I grip the paper with both hands as I read faster._

 _A few minutes in, I have the letter in a death grip, my body shaking from an unseen tremor._

 _A few hours later, Ma came home to me blankly staring at the wall in Danny's room, eyes red from crying and face moist from tears still falling._

 _The letter was addressed in three parts, and the biggest one ended in words that broke me._

 _'_ _ **To the best big sister anyone could ask for.**_ _'_

 _Could anyone blame me for breaking, after all; you never know how much you love something until it's gone. Gone..._

Emotional Line Break.

 **A/N: It's a bit shorter than before, but it's also where some changes occur. Said changes are obvious, if you have read the older version of this story. As for how the changes make the story different, well you have to wait on that one.**

 **On the bright side, got a reviewer here!**

 **TigerWarrior1998** **: I like to think that the differences are there thanks to the change in point of view, and having Sythe's pov is a thing. I think that his thought process would be more... refined, seeing how he was a diplomat before he got shoehorned into a soldier, and before that into marrying Flora as a political move. As for the same story, different look, well... no. Things have changed overall, and I couldn't implement them before without going in and replacing the entire story, so I just left it there for whom it may concern, and have this one be similar, yet fundamentally different. In the end, this isn't going to be the same story, sorry if that rubs ya the wrong way.**

 **And so that concludes the end of this chapters author's notes. For those people who don't read responses to reviews, and have read the previous story and want some answers** _ **now**_ **, then I highly suggest reading the response for some insight.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and have a good one!**

 **P.S: Why is it a natural thing to do; having terrible things happen to your characters? I mean, the answer is most likely 'plot device', but if those people were real... it makes my head shudder uncontrollably. No, not because of Rom, either. Rom's different.**


	4. Hallucinations and Pizza

**A/N: I liked that last chapter. It feels good to write this, and having this much info put into it will help me out with what I'm planning for it.**

 **Not else much to say. So... on with the story, I guess.**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I do not, can not, and will not own Two Kinds. Only bad things will come from that thought process.**_

First!

Unlike my waking-up yesterday, this one is sudden. The only thought going through my mind can be summed up with a constant "-shit shit shit shit-" and that doesn't really spell out the rest of my position very well. I have to slowly unwind myself from the pseudo-fetal position I found myself in, my body straining in protest from staying like it too long. There's a faint stream of sunlight shining through the crack of the tent, it's lack of brightness telling me it's probably early morning-

Wait, back that up- a _tent_?

I look around again, taking everything in and confirming that yes, I'm inside of a tent.

Then the realization of this being Keith's tent bitch-slaps me, and I start to bolt out of the tent because _holy shit I just left him in a tree what was I thinking_ -

Only for when I crawl out and stand up to look around, I get hit my a smell of something cooking. Looking over to the fire reveals the basitin in the middle of a yawn, fiddling with something in that pot of his – seriously, where does he keep that thing – and _not_ in a tree. His yawn ends, and he rubs a part of his shoulder as he tiredly glances over where I am, then back to his pot.

...Did he just look over me-

He whips his head back over to me, his eyes wide and ears suddenly flayed out. In return I crack a smirk.

"Someone's tired this morning; need your eyes checked?" My words don't seem to affect him, and it takes me a moment to realize that he isn't staring at _me_ , but at my body.

Looking down, I realize I'm still in my undergarments, having taken the traveling clothes off for the night.

Oh.

"Give me a second," I turn back to the tent, bending over to lean into the tent and grab the two articles. After taking a second to slip them on, I turn back around-

-only to see Keith looking even _more_ shocked?

"What?" The word seems to break whatever spell he's under, quickly turning back to whatever he was doing before.

"N-Nothing." Wait- is he embarrassed? What is he, a kid?

"Keith," I go to sit on the log next to him, and I can't help but sigh when he scoots away from me. "We're both adults- at least you told me you're one. It's not like I crawled out of the tent _stark naked_."

"I-It's considered... _inappropriate_ , for someone to be under-dressed." He's still looking away as he answers.

"To _whom_? We're in the middle of a _forest_ , for god's sake," When he doesn't answer, I let out another sigh. "Fine. Have it your way then; act like a brat."

From there, he finishes what looks like leftovers from last night – which looks to be mixed with something freshly hunted; guess he can do that, too – and we eat the last of it in silence, Keith sitting on the opposite end of the log from me and refusing to look in my direction.

Which irks me, for some unknown reason. Anyways, I use the time to think to myself.

Specifically, the dream- no, _memory_ , that I had last night. I still feel exhausted as ever – wishing for an espresso machine to suddenly appear hasn't worked – and my face still feels clammy. I would even bet that my eyes are red, if I feel this bad.

It's... been awhile since I've actually _thought_ about my little brother. I've referenced him in passing every now and then, but I haven't actually thought how he was doing. It's... usually easier, to think that nothing bad has happened – _that he didn't leave us all behind, leave_ _ **me**_ – and it's _probably_ not a healthy thing to do, but...

I guess I don't have enough courage to face that problem head-on.

Speaking of thinking about things...

"Hey Keith," I've finished my food some time while I was _not_ -brooding. "Did you say something about Flora and Trace last night?"

Whether it was him finally putting himself together, or the fact that I _kinda_ don't remember the whole conversation last night, he faces me with a deadpan.

"Last night – while you were out 'walking' – the _keidran_ was standing outside Trace's tent with a dagger in her hand. I'm certain that she was planning on killing Trace, but I stopped her before she could. She ran off, and as thanks Trace _shot me up a tree_." He spat out the words with no amount of bitterness in his voice, tearing off the last piece of meat and throwing the uneatable remains into the fire, the flames greedily consuming them.

Oh-kay then... that explain the blood and the dagger- wait.

"That doesn't add up," I shift a bit on the log to give the basitin a questioning look. "Flora _literally_ flirted with Trace last night- why would she want to go and kill someone she has possible feeling for?"

"Well," He gives me a withering look. "Maybe it's because I'm not naive and know that keidrans are not to be trusted."

I open my mouth to retort...

But I don't have one. I... what do I say to that? I- no, he can't be right- there's that wolf from last night- Sythe? He was kind enough, and most importantly _didn't_ run me through with that spear he had. But... something tells me I should keep that secret. Wouldn't want him to tarnish him, specifically.

Keith takes my silence as defeat and stands up to stomp over to where he put his things. Weirdly, he didn't use a tent, nor did he fix the one I tried to put up- he actually rolled it back up, strangely enough.

"Why didn't you kick me out of your tent- you had every right to."

He pauses in his packing, but continues without responding. At his lack of talking I throw my hands up.

"Fine, be that way.." I mumble to myself, then I start grabbing all of my stuff.

This is going to be a _long_ walk.

Line break. No capital B this time, bitch.

Apparently, Keith has got it stuck in his head that he _really_ wants Trace – for some ungodly reason – and he reasoned that the only way they could've gone with Flora harmed is the city we were heading towards in the first place. After the minor shock of _whoa, he actually tried to kill her_ , I couldn't really say anything about it because of the 'what if's. What if Keith was right- that Flora really _did_ try to kill Trace in the middle of the night? What if I was still there? Would Flora tried to stab _me_ -

No, there's no way; this is all probably some big misunderstanding. Maybe Keith just caught Flora outside Trace's tent and just so happened... to be holding a dagger...

Yeesh, who am I trying to convince here?

Tuning back into reality from my musings – _internal panicking_ – I see that- yup, Keith is still acting like some angsty teenager and is trying his best to pretend that I don't exist. Besides the comment on where our destination is, there hasn't been a single word spoken between us. There's definitely some tension between us, ignoring the fact that I'm adding to it, the answer being quite obvious as to what started it _and_ what can end it.

All of it centered on _me_. But there's no way that I'm going to admit that I- say that he's _right_. In what universe is any of this supposed to be right, anyhow? All of this slavery bullshit and starting a war because someone doesn't look like you-

It all seems so... _ancient_ , the reasons on why there's so much conflict. I've heard of issues on police brutality back home, but compared to _here_ it's a paradise. All that stuff going on sounds like a _war_ is about to happen...

This place is so _wrong_. So, so horribly wrong.

I haven't realize I've slowed down until Keith raised his voice.

"You're dragging your feet." I see a flick of his ear, and he doesn't even bother to turn around. I jog a bit – stuff in my backpack and satchel jangling around and making noise.

I open my mouth to 'comment' on his current angst-fest, but for once I clamped my mouth shut and took a second to say something.

"You know, back home we have a system in place when it comes to judging someone for a law they might or might not have broken," Other than a twitch of an ear, there's no response. "It's called 'Innocent until proven guilty'. So in my eyes, until I see those two and ask them myself, they're still good in my eyes."

It's quiet for a while, the only noise being the sounds of the forest; the chattering of a few squirrels, insects buzzing about, the winds blowing through the trees around us. The tranquility is soon broken by a sigh.

"Is that so?" He still doesn't look back, and while a small part of me wishes he decides to _look_ , another part of me realizes how _tired_ he sounds.

Well maybe he shouldn't be an ass about everything- or as Flora called him, a jerk.

"Since I think that, it also means that _you_ could be in the wrong," For the first time in what felt like _hours_ he looks back at me, any trace of that tired voice gone and replaced by the familiar annoyed face. "Assaulting another person because they're a different race is called a _hate crime_ , and is a _terrible offense_." I can't help the small smirk at the deepening frown on his face as he turns forward and starts walking again. My own feet start to pick up the pace, and I only just realized that we stopped moving when we started talking.

Seeing Keith return to his brooding domain, I decide to leave him alone – for now – and just settle in for the rest of the journey-

 _Or..._ I quietly – as to not disturb the subject – reach into my satchel, moving my hand around and soon resting it on a plastic object, just as quietly pulling it out. Trying my best to not make a sound, I bring it up to my face and center it on Keith, waiting for the perfect moment...

 _Flash._

The flash of light makes him jump a little, and I can't help the soft laugh that escapes me as I wait for the camera to spit out the film. He swings his head back, a shout on the tip of his tongue, but he stops when he notices the contraption in my hands.

"What was that?" I ignore the question as the film slowly rolls out of the camera, the image still covered in the pre-process black. I grab it and give it a little shake and, after a small consideration, hand it in the direction of the now-stopped basitin.

"Always wanted to know what you look like from behind?" Despite the bitch-face he throws at me, he takes the film, and after a few seconds at staring at the black his eyes widen.

Slowly, the image's color comes through to reveal the basitin in question. He's wearing that strange bucket-helm of his, with some steel shoulder plates resting on top of his caped shoulders, the cloth article brushed by in some passing breeze. Underneath the cape is his sword, attached to his hip with a leather harness of sorts, and his tail curved out of the cape's motion. If I wasn't privy to who this was – well, that and if Keith was more human-y from behind; the weird paw-feet thing still makes me do a double take – I would say that he would look like a knight, almost.

Ha, a knight in not-so-shiny armor. Would make sense, in some cases.

"C'mon, slowpoke," I lightly slap the back of his helmet. "We're burning daylight ogling my stuff."

I laugh a bit at the chocked sound coming from him, then have hold my sides as he mutters something that sounds a lot like 'devil-woman'.

I didn't notice how the tension seems to just bleed away, or how Keith decided to keep pace with me instead of lead.

Praise the line breaks!

It takes a while longer – some time in the early to mid afternoon, I don't know how to read the sun – before we come across a trail that looks to be well traveled, full of boot prints and cart tracks and whatever else you can find that people use old dirt roads for. After Keith took a moment to look down both ways and swivel his ears for good measure, we stepped out of the foliage and onto the road and started heading down it. Not long after, there appeared to be a break in the treeline, a hint of some structures that, for once, doesn't look to be made of wood and thatch. Before we could walk any further, Keith pulled me off to the side as he took off his pack and pulled out a familiar cloak.

"I don't want to look too suspicious," He muttered as some form of explanation as he threw it over his current clothing, the thick black cloak covering over everything on his person and reaching all the way down to his feet. Then, he flipped the over-sized hood over his bare head – having taken off the helmet and shoving it in his pack.

"Oh hey, it's shady cloak guy; nothing suspicious here." The unamused look sent from under the hood was worth a small laugh, which I cashed in on. Said look drilled deeper at the laugh.

"If I want to keep my fur where it is, then I need to wear this," He rolled his eyes as he dragged my entirely amused form out of the shrubbery and back onto the road, then soon we're back to walking.

Breaking the line of trees that are only about a hundred feet away from the outskirts of the 'city', part of me takes in the size of the place and has to tell itself that these people's definition of city is _very_ different from mine. The area that the place looks to cover can't be any bigger than Greenville, for crying out loud! The buildings themselves are of a surprisingly modern-looking shape, but are still made of stone, of all things. There are a few places where panes of glass are put here and there, and I have to stop to tell myself that- no, there isn't any glass made for widespread use like _house windows_ back in the day, and end up chalking it up to, yes, magic. Because how else can something so modern _exist_ when everyone is still using horse-drawn carts?

The one thing that stands out to me – and sends shivers like nobody's business down my spine – is _the tower_. Even from the outskirts, I can spot it from here, it being the tallest building in this entire place. While it's definitely no skyscraper, it's definitely nothing to scoff at as far as how these people made something so... _tall_ and not have it fall over. As for why it made my skin crawl?

The fact that the very top of it is giving off a noticeable, ominous red glow with pillars _floating around it_ is definitely a top contender on the spook factor.

The longer I'm here in this place, the more I feel like I shouldn't be here.

Looking back down from the _tower_ , I notice a set of guards – honest to god _guards_ – standing with swords at their sides and crossbows pointed off to the side and downwards. As we walk up to them, they give us a searching look, as if they can tell if we mean the city any harm, but soon loose interest and look forwards to the treeline. We soon breach the threshold of the city, and inside is a stark contrast to the outside barrenness.

There are people _everywhere_ , all about minding their own business or in pairs or groups. There are shops here and there, catering to one need or another, and people – with cloaks that have a strong similarity to Keith's – moving in and out of them like clockwork. Some with not a care of who they are surrounded by and some with a general politeness that reminds me of the aged man from the last village.

The whole atmosphere almost threw me for a loop because it reminds me of the one time where Ma and Papa took a trip to the city, dragging a smaller, more excited me to a place that seemed so _different_ to home, full of life despite how not a single cusp of trees could be seen. But the people seemed to be the driving force behind the life; how everything seems to just... flow together-

-Holy _shit_ it's a pizza parlor.

I didn't notice how my feet just froze to the ground until Keith tapped my shoulder, turning to see him giving me a confused look.

" _You have pizza?_ How?!" I whisper-shout, mostly from the awe of _how the hell there's pizza when there isn't any sign of modernism_. Seriously, how the fresh hell did a bunch of medieval neanderthals make _pizza_?!

I hear Keith let out a sigh – and a mutter that I couldn't quite hear – then, just like a few minutes ago, dragged me away from the incomprehensible paradox of a pizza place.

"Dawn," His tone reminds me of Papa when I was little, when I became a little too rowdy for him to handle. "We're not here to stare at everything; we need to find Trace."

"Doesn't that require staring at everything?" Cue annoyed look and small smirk sent in return.

"Can you not be difficult for five seconds?" He faces forward again, presumably to search for a certain bluenette.

"I mean, I _could_ , but where's the fun in..." I trail off as I started to look around for a certain blue-haired man and a tiger, when something finally registers.

The feeling of ' _I should not be here_ ' never felt stronger.

I peered farther into the crowds, and beyond the milling of random pedestrians are a few- no, an uncomfortable amount, of people with keidrans next to them. What I first registered as just diversity that's commonplace where I'm from is mistaken for what I'm now realizing is these keidrans in _chains_. Manacles at their feet to make running impossible, cuffs with brands seared onto them strapped onto their wrists, and to top it all...

A collar on all of them, with an eerie design carved into every single one of them that sends a sickening electricity down to my core.

Slaves. And a lots of them, too.

...Flora was right, after all. This is beyond something that was 'rich people owning others from another country', it's like... some sick fad that people are interested in. There's people sitting on benches, chatting about their everyday lives while the keidrans just _stand there_ , looking so lifeless-

A building, with a simple sign hanging out front that says 'Auction House', has people from all kinds of creed watching a line of chained up keidrans – ones from all the different species Flora described – with a critical eye like some kind of interesting _trinket on a store shelf_ -

The smallest one of them, one that doesn't look older than ten, is bawling their eyes out as she's being dragged into that _hellhole_ , the stripes around their face matted from tears as a man in dark robes swats at her and tells to to _stop making noise_ _ **and she's calling for her bro**_ -

" _-Dawn!_ "

I focus back and- Keith is right in front of me, giving me an odd look.

 _What..._ I step to the side and look behind him, expecting to see a morbid conga-line of prisoners and a _scared little girl_ -

-to see an abandoned, dilapidated building, the only sign of life being some woman covered in filthy rags sitting beside the thing to escape the sun.

"...Let's keep moving..." I step around Keith, giving the... residence a wide berth.

What the _hell_ was _that_? It felt so... am I going crazy? Another look around me shows that- no, there's still people, keidrans, bound and looking miserable, but what was with that scene? It felt so heart-wrenching to see and the kid looked so _young_...

Keith doesn't looked bothered by any of this, but something tells me from the glance I shot him – he's drilling holes into my skull when I chanced the look – that his earlier opinion of keidrans makes it easier to ignore the misery around us. And _god_ , the depression is almost palpable, now that I notice the _other half_ of this place.

It's one thing to be told about it, but nothing could dampen the blow from seeing it first-hand.

A crack of thunder rolls through, and looking up shows that a darkening that was in the horizon got a lot closer. The dark gray clouds tumble over each other slowly as they ever so slowly go to cover the late afternoon sun, darkening the surrounding landscape in an early evening light. People around us look up to the front and hurry to either finish whatever business they have or pick up the pace they set to their homes.

Keith walks up to me, making sure to keep his head low so the hood covers his features.

"We're going to have a hard time finding Trace when the storm hits. We should find an inn before it gets worse."

"Y-Yeah." I give a slight nod, as if in some vain hope that it'll cover up the stutter.

I can't see his eyes under the hood, but I swear I see his mouth twitch downwards for a split second before he turns and heads down the street, his cloak blending in a lot better than I thought it would alongside the rushing individuals occupying the road.

I look back over my shoulder, at the broken-down structure, and I do a small double take when the beggar woman is nowhere to be seen. I shake my head at the small detail, then jog to catch up with my basitin companion.

Line Break.

It doesn't take long for Keith to find an inn – he implied that he traveled often; doy, Dawn – and good thing too, for the storm finally decided to start pelting the earth with rain and a few flashes of lightening. Oddly enough, the only thing that seems to worry me right now is the chance of lightening striking the inn- it's one of the only buildings in this block that's made of wood, so it has to be the reason why this place doesn't set well with me.

Keith and I rush under the awning jutting out of the top of the entrance, and I take the time to kick off any mud that collected from the now-muddy streets as Keith opens up the door and ushers us in. Inside, there's a fire burning off to one side of the large room that fills the room with a welcoming warmth; a stark contrast to the sudden cool that blew in from the storm above us. The room – which looks like a _very_ quaint bar – is, surprisingly, well decorated- and because of that it almost _reeks_ of tourist trap. There's decorations put up on the walls, tables with a decent amount of people sitting among them, and a gruff looking man with a bald head and a well-kept but large beard mans the bar.

Off to the side, a man with an office-like desk-table messes with the items on it, medium-length light brown hair prepared neatly and a pair of blue eyes that look just as smug as the light smirk that rests on his face. When we walk up to the table it takes a throat-clear from Keith for him to look up, and that perpetual smugness seems to drop when he looks up and lays his eyes on me, eyes widening slightly in surprise. However, the minor shock slips away as that smug look returns, with a minor glint in his eye as he glides his gaze between me and Keith.

"Well, isn't _this_ a surprise! It's odd seeing you here, Ms. Underwood," He stops whatever he's doing and sits in a chair behind the table, his fingers steepled under his chin. "Welcome to my humble tavern, what may I get you."

Honestly, my mind almost stopped registering when the second guy in a row somehow _not only_ recognized me, but _knew my name_. I managed to keep it together – compared to earlier, this is _nothing_ – and a small part of me noticed how he keeps his eyes solely on me, seeming to ignore Keith beyond the second glance he first gave the basitin.

"I need a room for the night, and a separate one for my friend." The wince that the man did was so fake that I _swear_ he's playing some kind of joke, but I don't see where this is goin-

" _Sorry_ , but there's only one room left that's been prepared and is open. _However_ ," His smirk turns almost predatory. "You could have you... _friend_ share the suite with you."

I... don't know what's with the look, but- wait.

"How much is for the room?" I have no money left on me, and I rather not have to overburden Keith with having to pay for two- hell, he's even frozen in place from the looks of it.

"Oh, for _you_ , Ms. Underwood, consider it free of charge; for doing a great service for humanity."

 _Free?!_ Whoa, I don't even care about the mistake where this guy thinks I'm someone else, this could be a way to save up on Keith's change.

"Done." A wide grin splits across my face, and the man leans back and grabs a lone key from what looks like a rack of key hooks and passes it over.

"Here you go, one suite for the night; on the house." He places it in my palm and gives it a little pat. "Enjoy."

"Thanks!" I grab Keith by the shoulder – who it even stiffer than I last glanced at him – and direct – read: _dragged_ – him off to the stairs off to the side.

There's two set of stairs that we had to climb; the first landing that we reach showed a... less than clean hallway that has multiple doors. They're probably the 'regular' rooms provided here, and a small part of me – for some reason – feels great at not having either me or Keith thrown into there.

It's almost like I didn't argue with him this morning about keidran politics and being in each other's presence with less than full clothing attached.

...Okay, that last part sounded bad out of context.

The last landing we reach is _much_ better looking than the last one, with the hallway looking like it was scrubbed through every nook and cranny with a _toothbrush_. There's decorative wall-sconces that almost look _gilded_ , and the light bathed from them gives a nice atmosphere to the whole place. Pulling out the key and looking for the room with the matching number, I reach the door that it matches with and _right_ when I'm about to unlock the door is when Keith finally snaps out of whatever funk he was in.

"I'm not going in there."

Excuse me, _what_.

"Wait, why don't you..." I trail off at the look that he sends me – the very same one that he had this morning – and give him a deadpan. "You _can't_ be serious."

"I'm serious."

"Keith, _no_ , you heard the guy; there are _no more rooms_ , this is the last one!" That only puts a frustrated look on his face.

"It would be _inappropriate_ to do so-"

"There you go again! Jesus, Keith, it's not like we're obligated to fuck if we share the same room," I let out a sigh at the flinch Keith did. "Look, if it disturbs you so much, I can go back down and ask if the guy downstairs knows any other taverns around the area. Here," I grab his hand and place the room key into his – _soft_ – hand. "The suite's all yours."

I start back to the stairs, Keith looking shocked at the sudden generosity that even _I_ didn't expect, when I feel his hand lightly grab my arm, a sigh accompanying the action.

"I... I didn't mean to kick you out like that; it has nothing to do with you," I turn back around to face him, and I'm taken aback at the slight crack in his mask of annoyance he usually wears.

The more I talk to him, the more I _feel like_ the answer is slapping me across the face, and it's only now that some part of me finds a ghost of an answer. The clothing he wears is something reminiscent of a knight straight out of a fairy-tale; how he projects respect for decency; and, you know, _we're in medieval-ish times_ ; he probably has some form of code to follow, and somewhere in there probably states how to 'respect maidens', or something...

Oh great, the one time where a code of honor is probably the worst thing; mostly because it suck _right now_. I speak up after noticing my contemplating gaze making Keith fidget a little.

"It's alright; you probably have some kind of law or code that says you can't go in the same room, huh?" A feel a small sense of victory at the surprised look he sends me. "Hey, I'm nothing if not observant. But-"

I snatch the key I gave him and dragged him back to the suite door, making sure to keep a grip on the basitin.

"-I'm not about to let you sleep somewhere slummy." I fiddle with the lock, and it's a lot easier that Keith seemed to accept what I've said as the key finally unlocks the door.

Pushing the door open, I look around inside and can't help the low whistle that escapes me as I take in the sights. Compared to a hotel room from back home, this gives off a similar feeling- the only difference being the obvious technological gap that reeks from this room. The bed looks miles better than the last one I've slept in at the last village, and it has a quilt that looks to be professionally sewn together and made of something that might've been expensive material around here. There's a table off to one side, with a branch-like object sitting on top of it that I can't tell why it's there. A _bookshelf_ , of all things, flanks the side of it, but has a very small amount of reading material littering it. Next to the bed is a dresser, a mirror sitting on top of it with an assortment of hygiene care sitting atop it in neat rows. Across from the entrance is what looks like a balcony, with the curtains currently drawn together to hide the storm outside.

"Well, he wasn't kidding when he said 'suite'." I finish my observation and walk next to the bed, dropping my pack and _gently_ setting down my satchel, and relief floods through me after having all of that weight taken off of me as I flop on the bed.

"I'm taking the bed, fuzzball; I _technically_ purchased the room, after all." I shout, my voice muffled from the assortment of sheets and blankets shoved in my face that feels _so good_.

A sigh is all I get, but I hear him heading to the opposite wall and setting something down, along with the clanging of what I suspect is the pieces of armor he wears on his person. If only I had another set of clothes to use – or wear to sleep – because the slight muggy feeling that I'm getting from the small dip in the rain is _not_ a great feeling, and I wish there was something as comfy as the bed I'm face-planted on.

 _Or something as warm and soft as that wolf from last night,_ a small part of me says. While I agree on the _soft_ and _warm_ , and how it would be amazing to feel that great, or even how it would feel to have some to constantly feel under my hand-

Whoa, slow down there; that's about to take a turn for the worse, and something tells me that Keith wouldn't appreciate it- even if he can't read minds. I think.

Speaking of, I turn my head to ask the basitin in question how he's holding up-

-only to be greeted by his back, which for _some reason_ doesn't have anything on it, currently. The fuzz that covers him is the same sandy color all around, apparently, and I watch as he stretches his back muscles to bring a damp shirt – freshly wrung out – and slip the article back on, removing the view that I had.

...Okay, so fuzzball has some muscles on him. Well, I _think_ he's a knight of some kind, and he always lugs around that sword like he knows how to use it, but holy _shit_ -

I shove my face back into the bedding, hoping to smother the blush on my face because _why the hell am I getting bothered over someone who's a bit of an ass_? Yeah- no, I'm not going to have any of that-

" _Aaaah! No! Stop! Anywhere but there!_ "

…

Glacially, Keith and I turn our heads out the door, were I'm _pretty sure_ I just heard the voice of _Trace_ , of all people, shout out in- what, _fear_?

We share a glance, and we drop whatever we're doing to go to the door; Keith picking up his sword and me following closely behind him and, upon reaching the door, carefully grabbing the handle-

 _BOOM!_

-and throwing it open, looking down the hall to see a freaking _hole_ in one of the walls, dust billowing out of it and rubble from it strewn across the previously-clean floor. Keith rushes ahead – myself not far behind – and instead of looking through the hole in the wall he tries the door _that's unlocked for some ungodly reason_ -

-revealing a familiar, colorful trio.

"You idiot! Could you _not_ destroy everything?" A purple haired woman – Maren, I think? – coughs from the dust scattered through the air as she scolds the redhead with a _glowing hand what the_ -

"You guys _do_ know the door's unlocked, right?" At his voice, the three look over to us with shocked looks. The redhead looks about ready to burst again at seeing Keith, Maren looks at the door with a heavy deadpan, and... Karen's waving at me, for some reason-

 _CRASH!_

Out of _nowhere_ the wall that I _think_ has the outside behind it breaks down, sending more bits of wall and dust everywhere. I flinch hard at the collapse, backing away from it but only hitting the wall next to the door- well, the one that doesn't have a _giant hole_ in it. As the dust settles-

"What have you done with my Flora?"

-right in front of me, growling like he's a mad dog and moving his spear in a threatening way, is-

" _Sythe?_ " My jaw drops, the name making said wolf look in my direction and mimic me.

" _Dawn?_ " He looks every bit surprised as I feel.

"Sythe?" I look over to Keith to see a lost expression as he looks between us-

"Tom's Pizza Delivery. I've got a large with extra anch-" I turn next to me, seeing some guy with _fantastic_ black hair reading off of some notepad and holding a _pizza box_ that takes a second to look up-

" _Oh my God!_ " His gaze appears locked on whatever is in front of him, and weirdly enough he isn't looking at any of us.

 _What could be so shocking that... that..._ My thoughts slowly drift off into nothing as I turn to see-

Trace. And Flora. In an _extremely_ _suggestive_ position.

…

"Woohoo Trace!" I barely register the cheer as my eyes seem glued on the – probably a – social taboo that I just committed.

I d-don't know what to do. I... I mean, the fact that if Keith was right about last night this makes whatever is happening in front of me- no! No. No, you are _not_ going to go down that path of thinking, Dawn!

...But seriously, they must be into some _weird stuff_ if they get a kick out of that-

"W-what's going on?" I look next to me – mostly to have something to occupy my thoughts – and my mind proceeds to go off on another tangent as I see the woman who walks up next to me.

For one, her hair is _silver_ – not white, **silver** – and it's long, going all the way down to her lower back from behind and down to her torso in two mirrored streams from the front. She – out of everyone I've seen in this place so far – seems to be the most exotic human with how her facial features are shaped- it's just so _sharp_ that it's almost like looking at royalty. Her eyes are of an odd shade of yellow, and the fact that I'm pretty sure that it's as natural as her hair seems to only make me stare longer.

"I thought you were looking for the Templar?" Her brows furrow as she surveys the battered room. Confused, I do the same-

-whoa. Okay, um, everyone is apparently beating the crud out of each other. How did I not notice it-

I look towards the bed, remembering the culprit of my lapse in focus, only to see an empty bed. Well, except for the redhead threatening some poor sod on the other side of the bed into submission. Or unconsciousness. One of those two. Either way – slowly – everyone else seems to come to the same conclusion that- yes, Trace and Flora are both gone.

All that is left is the awkward silence of realizing that the reason behind the silence is now gone, and a sense of-

" _Ahem,_ " I look behind me, the tavern keep standing there with a tray of a couple of bottles of... _something_. Whatever it is, it has some kind of magenta flower floating around in it, and he has it extended towards me. "Sorry to... _interrupt_ , but your refreshments are here, Ms. Underwood."

Quietly, I grab the offered tray, gripping it with both hands as the keep does that weird smug smirk of his and walks off, stepping over odd pieces of wall as he exits.

…

"Ya know," I carefully rotate towards Keith, who has a certain green-haired woman climbing off of him. "I thought he'd be more pissed at the two walls blasted in."

At the silence that greets me – besides one snort from a basitin – I cringe slightly. Yeah, the atmosphere of awkward hasn't left yet, and the tension seems to exponentially get _worse_ as the seconds tick by-

My eyes catch the pizza box on the floor, then the bottles on the tray.

"...Pizza and booze?" I lift up the tray along with my shoulders, as if saying 'that's all I got'.

Everyone present shares a look between each other, then in unison stare at the bottles in my grasp, then back to me.

PIZZA!

Holy shit I can't believe that worked.

Somehow, everyone seemed to unanimously agree to the offer, and currently everyone is sitting around the opened pizza delivery box, sitting besides someone for one reason or another. Red – because I can't seem to remember if I heard his name yet, but can't care to learn it – opted to take a bottle of flower-booze and sit by himself, seeming to be deep in thought about something as he takes periodic sips of the drink. Karen decided to sit beside Keith because – and I laughed _hard_ at the look on Keith's face – 'his ears were _super_ fluffy'. Keith, naturally, tried to argue this, but no matter how far he shifts away from the woman with animal ears, she seems to stay the same distance from him.

Surprisingly, Maren decided to sit next to Sythe, with myself sitting on the other side of the wolf keidran, then on _my_ other side is the _silver_ -haired woman- who's name is Raine.

And yes, I'm putting a lot of emphasis on _silver_ , because it's not every day that you find someone that has fuzz that you _swear_ shimmers when it reflects light. Like, it literally looks like someone dumped quicksilver over her head and it decided to stick.

Ya know, besides the health problems of dumping mercury on someone's head.

As I contemplate this, I feel my stomach demand another bite of pizza, and reluctantly eat a slice of the anchovy-pepperoni pizza. While every other part of the slice is _fucking amazing_ – like, I'm pretty sure there's actual magic behind the recipe – the fact that there's _anchovies_ on it sucks. At least it isn't-

"Is something the matter?" Raine stops the conversation with Maren on... whatever they were talking about- clothes? Is that a thing normal-ish people talk about? Anyways, she faces me with a questioning look. Besides the look, even the fact that she has an _accent_ that gives her a posh exterior seems to make her look beyond regal, for some reason.

I shake the slice slightly, "I'm not a fan of anchovies, but it _could_ be worse, I s'ppose."

"Well," She takes another bite of her own slice, seeming to take her time with it as she chews. "I don't like them, either, but it's better than no food."

"I'm not so sure..." I take another swig of my own bottle of the flower-booze, relishing in the sweet taste that it offers. The drink has a sweetness to it that's almost like syrup, but has the consistency of _water_ , funnily enough.

"What do you mean?" Looking over to my other side, I see Sythe looking down at me. While he was standing, he had a definite height that towered over me, but while we're both sitting it seemed to even out. Must be the legs; those things are like natural high heels- I would _kill_ to get that height without murdering my own feet in the process.

"I mean..." I thoughtfully place the pizza in my mouth and take another bite, scrunching my face up at the taste of _another goddamn anchovy_. "Th'r coul' be pin'appl' 'n it." A shiver runs through me at the thought. Truly, the least stupid words I've ever spoken.

Doesn't make the anchovies taste any better, though.

I shovel the last bite of my slice into my mouth, washing it down with a hearty swig of the delicious flower-syrup. Looking around me, everyone seems to be starring at me.

...Okay, guys I said something stupid, then.

Except Keith, but from the amount of drink that he took, he doesn't seem to make the connection yet.

"It's _fruit_ on _pizza_. That's something you never use unless you _despise_ someone." Why can't they see that? It's obvious; nothing taste worse than putting something citrus-y on your gutted calzone!

Keith lets loose another snort, and that seemed to set off a chain reaction of everyone else – even _Red_ , the bastard – into a fit of giggles and chuckles. I feel my face flush further and a scowl cross my face. The idiots won't know the disgusting evil until it falls on their slices, _then_ let's see who'll be laughing.

It takes a bit for everyone to calm down, then soon it's back to idle conversations for a while. It was... oddly nice. I mean, even though they _were_ trying to beat the shit outta each other only a few minutes ago, it feels nice to... _hang out_ with people, to laugh with them and joke about things. Well, that and the weird drink helps. And for a long while it's exactly that; something that feels almost perfect, despite my... situation.

Then _someone_ , not telling any names – _it was all Red_ – had to ruin it with a question.

"Dawn," I look up to see Red giving me this _really weird_ look, all squint-y and stuff. "Why are you hanging out with this animal, anyways?"

Huh, so that's why he looks so constipated; I mean, I don't know why needing to shit translates to travel companions, but hey.

"You mean Keith? Oh, I'm jus' tryin' to find my way home. _But thash da thin',_ " I try to take another sip of _liquid awesome_ , but the flower just smacks me on the mouth so I set it back down. "I don' know how to _get_ there."

Everything gets quiet, and it greeny that says something next- who is _completely sober_ , by the by.

"But you _are_ home; this is your home city, right?"

 _What?_ No, that can't be right.

"Nah, nah, you don' _undershtan'_ ," I sit up from my lounge, trying to make these dumb asses _think_ better. "I'm from _Greenville_ , an'... I think I _died_ ; all that mesh with gettin' killed an' sudd'n'ly ish _the void_. Like, _actually nothin'_." I flop my arms up, and I _kinda_ feels something soft at the end of one of them that feels almost like that nice puppy that my neighbor has from when I was a kid, so I start to pet it. "An' then I woke up 'ere, an' then _you_ ," I shove the hand with the bottle in the direction of Red. "Knocked me offa my chair because fuzzball is cute. _Idiot._ " I try to throw the bottle at the source of my pain, but I held onto it for too long and it ends up rolling slowly about a couple of feet away from me.

Damn it, that was supposed to hit him. _Riiiiight_ in the head. Or the dick.

I'm not picky.

Suddenly, I let out a yawn, and I realize how _tired_ I am. Everything so... _fuzzy_ \- like the thing in my left hand.

Oh wait, that's Sythe. Oops.

"Imma sleep now. G'night, ya evil people. 'Cept _you_ ," I throw out a surprisingly agile hand and pinch Keith's ear as I walk over to the hole. I ignore the yelp and 'help' him to his feet. "You need t' sleep, too." Not letting go of the fuzzball, I drag him out of the hole, and back across the hall and into the room.

With a determination that I never knew I had, I waddle-walk to the bed and throw the covers back, flopping onto the open bed. I'm greeted by the amazing feeling of a _good_ bed, and a nice floral scent that covers it. There's even the _softest_ pillow I've ever felt right in my arms, and I snuggle up to it, rubbing my face against its _divine fuzz_.

Of course, as per usual after anyone getting shit-faced drunk, I proceed to pass the fuck out.

Poor Keith, but not really.

Why me?

Why I ask? Oh, just the small, _tiny_ fact that I'm being molested by a sleeping Dawn by her unconscious self rubbing its face against _my ears_.

The entire situation screams _wrong_ , but the iron grip that the human is keeping me in is making this much more difficult than it should be. Of course, I could just wrestle my way out of it, but something tells me that waking her up would end with a _lot_ of uncomfortable questions being asked, and I rather not have it come to that.

And it's all for that reason, and that reason _only_ that I'm not moving right now, despite how comfortable my _everything_ feels.

...Well, seeing how I'm not moving anytime soon, might as well think a bit. And speaking of things to think about...

I twist my head to the side to get a slightly better look of Dawn, a light snore drifting from her form in the dark. The things that she said in there before she... _grabbed my ear_ , I can't tell if it's just the alcohol talking, but the fact that she tends to be brutally honest sometimes _while sober_ , and how she looked hurt while saying those words – however hurt one can look while drunk – makes me think the former is true.

But if that's the case... her thinking she _died_? That's... ridiculous, even if she was being serious. Nobody just _dies_ and suddenly shows up in a foreign country.

...Right?

Thinking back, the clothes she wore aren't of a make that I have seen anywhere, and I've been traveling around Mekkan for years; I've seen the different fashion styles that come from all over, and it doesn't match anything that I've seen before... But yet again, I've never seen a human who doesn't know what a _keidran_ is, or seen magic before, or-

Okay, so she either lived under a rock her entire life, or she really is telling the truth about the foreigner part. And oh, if the thought of not only a village made of humans, but an entire _territory_ of them existing outside of the normal human territories gives me a headache about the implications.

The thing that makes it ache worse is how people that she _claims_ to have never met somehow know who she is, despite how... _foreign_ she acts. The confusion she gets from people talking to her like she knows them looks genuine, but that doesn't make any sense-

"Snrk!" Dawn lets out a louder-than-normal snore, then loosens her arms to hug herself and wiggle herself closer to me.

With a quiet sigh, I lean myself up to _breath_ , taking in fresh air that isn't surrounded by that sweet alcohol and some kind of scent that reminds me of... what was it called? A photo?

I look back at Dawn, checking to make sure that she is asleep – which by the sounds of it she's back under – then I tucking a hand into my shirt and grabbing _the_ photo. As soon as it comes out of the confines of the shirt, I can smell the distinct aroma that was coming off of Dawn, and for some reason it... calming. From the small amount of light in the room, I can see the outlines and bare hints of color of the image, one that shows a valley in autumn with a sunset in the crevice of the two mounds off to each side.

Written under the picture is the word 'Farewell', written in a neat, cursive handwriting.

I feel myself almost question what the word meant to the picture, back when she gave this to me to come along, but something seemed to stop me from doing it when I looked at her.

And it wasn't until last night that the reason came up.

It took me a while to climb down from the top of that tree, and by then I could hear the small snores that Dawn is sounding off, currently. I debated on what to do with her in order for her to get out of the tent, when she gave off a small whine.

"... _Dan..._ "

After that, I understood the long look that she gave the photo, and it's because I'm no stranger to that feeling myself.

Loss.

Or more appropriately, farewell.

With an ache in two places now, I slowly tuck the photo back where I had it, then start to stand up-

-only for an iron grip to _grab my tail ow_ -

I stop moving and repress the yelp that almost escaped me, looking behind me to see Dawn latch onto something new.

Great, now how am I supposed to get out of here-

-she yanks on it and I couldn't stop the yell as I fall back onto the bed.

...It was a yell, and there's nobody around to tell me otherwise.

The human let out a noise that almost starts an ache in _three_ places and snuggles closer, holding my tail as if she was some child holding a toy. I try to move, but this grip is even worse than the last one she used on my ears. By all that is _holy_ , this woman has a grip!

After that last move she pulled, she stopped moving, returning to her docile state of light snores. Her grip doesn't budge an inch, and something tells me that it's not going to anytime soon.

 _...Why me?_

Sorry not sorry, Keith.

 **A/N: Poor Keith. I guess I answered my question for why people put characters into situations that take them outside their comfort zones; it's** _ **fun**_ **!**

 **...And a good source of comedy, but hey. I'm no professional writer, so I'm not a mastermind when it comes to doing this stuff.**

 **On the flip side of things, I got both conflict, weird shit, alcohol, Tom's weird fascination for making pizza in a time where it shouldn't exist yet (but hey, it's his world so he gets to play god with time and stuff), and Keith getting put into a situation where he thinks he's the unluckiest basitin ever. That's quite a bit, if I do say so myself.**

 **Now, before I forget: REVIEWS!**

 **Tigerwarrior1998:** **Differences have been made, changes have been set, and if I swap those past-tense verbs around the words would make more sense. All in all, when it comes to how the last story goes, I was kinda, sort of, might have been** _ **winging it**_ **. Which means that a** _ **lot**_ **of design choices that went into making the story had been made up on the spot (which includes Elaine, which I'll address in a second) and that was terrible, looking back on it. Speaking of hindsight being 20-20, Elaine. While she was cool, adorable, and a load of other things, she also... kinda didn't have a place in my plans, down the line. So while she still appeared, it was for about five seconds of nightmare fuel before everything got confusing (for Dawn, that is;** _ **I**_ **have a plan for once, and I'm following it.) As for you being one of the first reviewers I've ever had, welcome to being addressed in a semi-formal manner at the end of a chapter. Cool for me, cool for you, and cool for whoever else decides to review this story.**

 **And that's it for this chapter! Hope you enjoyed reading Polarized Redux, and have a good one!**

 **P.S.: So, since I'm not one to drink, to try and help myself write that one scene where Dawn is proving that she's a lightweight I waited until like, three in the morning to write the whole scene in one go. Lets just say that it was worth it, but I'll probably never do that again. Regret; thy name is sleep deprivation.**


	5. That Moment when Everything Goes Wrong

**A/N: It's officially the last chapter before this story gets caught up with the same timeline that the old 'Polarized' was in, which is** _ **awesome**_ **. I get to start soon on getting past 'The City' (seriously, that city where everyone barges in on Trace and Flora on the bed never gets a name, for some reason) and I'm excited!**

 **In other news, I posted a new chapter of 'Dream a Better Dream' before this, so that's a thing. Other than that, there's nothing else to do other than getting on with the story.**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I don't own shit, other than Dawn. Tom can keep his stuff; he actually knows what he's doing, so he drives. And I don't own any books, either, so any title names I don't own.**_

* * *

 _"Papa?"_

 _"Yes, sunshine?"_

 _"How come I don't look like Ma?"_

 _We were on the porch swing, Papa with his arm slung around me and pressing me into his side. It was... summer? Spring? I don't remember the exact time of year, or how old I was, when I asked 'The Question'. No, not the one that_ _ **every**_ _parent dreads about discussing puberty; the one that few parents have the unlucky privilege to be asked._

 _"...Papa?"_

 _"Don't worry, sunshine; just surprised you asked is all."_

 _"Why?"_

 _I remember the strained look on his face. At the time, I didn't know what it meant, and it made me even more confused. Yet again, I was a kid, so it made sense that I didn't understand at the time._

 _"Well... do you love your mother?"_

 _"Yeah,_ _ **of course**_ _, why wouldn't I?"_

 _"It's... well, it's a_ _ **bit**_ _complicated."_

 _I remember the reason why I asked; there were times where kids –_ _ **disgusting brats**_ _– teased me viciously that Ma looked nothing like me. At first, I didn't know why that was a problem, but then I_ _ **looked**_ _, and I started to realize that the other kids looked like their parents, and that I didn't look at all like Ma._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Well, isn't that your favorite word," A chuckle, one that I didn't join. "Ah... okay, sunshine, can you promise me something?"_

 _"What?"_

 _Ever since Danny joined the family, and I realized that I didn't look like Ma, I realized that_ _ **he**_ _looked like both Ma_ _ **and**_ _Papa. At first I was jealous, but then Papa noticed that something was up with me and took me out to the porch swing. I spoke first, instead of him asking what was going on._

 _"That you'll_ _ **never**_ _stop loving your Mama,_ _ **ever**_ _."_

 _"...Okay, I promise Papa."_

 _"Good. Don't you ever forget that she loves you, too, alright sunshine?"_

 _"Okay,_ _ **Dad**_ _." He let out a laugh and a fake 'oomph' when he started laying it on thick, like he always does._

 _And so he told me about my birth mother; Tera Isabel Mea Evans. She told me how she had strawberry blonde hair, a beautiful face (that he said would be mine soon, before I grew up with his face) with eyes like molten caramel. He told me how she was his best friend when they were younger; how he was so infuriatingly clumsy, but she always kept her patience around him; how he always tried to give back, despite both of them being orphans and not having much to give in the first place; how they were practically attached to the hip with how great of a duo they were. He told me about he he fell in love with her, and how amazing it was for her to return the feelings (with a witty "Took you long enough.")._

 _How sad he was when she 'left' and how happy he was to have me to remember her._

 _We must've been out there for hours, him talking so animatedly about the crazy things that they got into as kids, and how much of an idiot he was to not see things sooner so they could do_ _ **more**_ _with how little time they had, in the long run._

 _In the end, he ended up a crying mess (myself joining in when I realized that I would never meet her because she died) and ended up almost giving Ma a heart attack when she came out of the house and saw us a tangled mess of tears and limbs._

 _Guess I inherited my father's want to have more time, in the end..._

* * *

As I come to conscience, there are three things that become distinctly aware to me.

The first thing is that there's a _bitch_ of a headache trying to assault me, and I almost want to fall right back to sleep to escape the pain of being awake with it.

Second thing is that – besides the headache – I'm... _really_ comfortable. I'm not enveloped into any blankets if the chill on my back has anything to say, but it must've bundled right in front of me because _wow_ it's comfortable and I don't want to fall asleep to escape it.

It takes a few moments of fighting the headache and feeling my face scrunching up to wake up some, which is exactly when the third thing became _acutely aware_ to me:

The source of my comfort? _It's breathing._

As soon as that thought enters my groggy, sleep-addled brain it jump-starts and my eyes shoot open with shock because _there's someone sleeping right in front of me_ -

And I see a sleeping Keith, his face the picture of serenity and snug as his arms lock loosely around me. Hell, even I'm not innocent; my own arms has Keith's – _extremely soft_ – tail in a death grip as if it was a life-line.

…

 _Heh, he's kinda cute_ -

NO! No no no, you are _not_ going to think that, Dawn! You are going to _calmly_ let go of his tail, unwind yourself from this situation, then hightail it out of here and get some coffee. I mean, for crying out loud I was angry with him yesterday, and I am _not_ about to be part of a _shitty romance novel_!

 _Yeah._ Calmly, I let go of the prisoner between my hands-

"...mm..." Keith lets loose an _adorable_ noise as his tail goes from my hands and wraps around his leg, instead his arms squeezing a bit harder from it's loose hold on me.

...Damn, that wasn't supposed to happen.

I try wiggling my body to the edge of the bed – ignoring any heat that rises to my face every time the basitin makes a noise that heat more than _my face_ – and , sadly, his grip drags his body along for the ride. I try to softly pry his grip off, but any pressure used to relieve me of it just has Keith tighten his arms around me. Soon, I'm in an iron grip not unlike the one that I had on his tail earlier – which is now wrapped around _my_ leg, now.

 _Why_ does he have to be such a cuddler when he's asleep?

...Well, now what? I look around the room – and _wow_ it's really early in the morning – to try and find something that could help me...

 _Well_ , this could be worse; at least we have our clothes on still- and it _Keith._ He's practically a turbo-virgin with how embarrassed he gets around women without long sleeves on-

Wait. _Wait._

Ooooohoho, this is _such_ a perfect opportunity- and it might actually make him shut up sometimes! Dawn, you evil, _evil_ genius...

I twist around slightly in the hold and look back over the side of the bed – Keith's almost silent snores getting shoved into my ear at one point and tickling it, which almost blew my cover – and there, sitting almost innocently on the edge of the nightstand, is my satchel. Taking my free arm, I fish around in the bag for a minute as quietly as possible and- _there!_ I pull out my camera, and with it in hand I slowly rotate myself back around to where Keith and I are chest to chest.

I lift the hand with the camera above us, pointing it right at us – Keith's sleeping form hugging even tighter, his tail following suit; it's like he _wants_ to be blackma- _I mean_ , give me a bargaining chip – and I give the camera a sharp grin as, with a _flash_ , a means to embarrassing Keith has been achieved-

Keith start to take a sudden deep breath, and the grip on my body suddenly loosens. Quickly, I place the camera onto the nightstand – much easier, now that Keith unwound his arms to stretch – and I twist back and quickly prop up my head and put up my smuggest smirk that I can muster.

Keith takes a few moments to yawn – his tongue lolling out of his jaw in the process and _whoa that's big_ – then attempts to try to sit up-

Only for the arm pinned under me to keep him lying on his side. He freezes for a second, his jaw clamping shut and his stretching arm slowly moving in front of him and landing on top of my head. The fuzzy hand lightly pats around my head, then moves in front of my face-

"Is this the basitin way of coping a feel, or is it just you?"

Keith almost looks to turn into stone, with how fast he stopped. His eyes shoot open, and the shock in his eyes go from major to 'oh god' _real fast_.

The smirk turns predatory.

"Morning, sleeping beauty. You have about five seconds to explain yourself."

* * *

I let out a sigh as the door closes shut behind me, Flora in the middle of picking up the blanket that I used last night and humming a tune being shut out as it does. That was definitely an odd morning that I've had; if Flora would just word things a little better...

Well, as she said; she's only acting her age, and wasn't _that_ something to hear- about how keidrans age faster than humans. It definitely wasn't something I was expecting, that's for sure! Speaking of not expecting things...

Last night, why did all of those people started breaking down the walls for _me_? I mean, I know that I'm the 'Grand Templar' and all, but I'm pretty sure that one of them was trying to kill me, the red haired guy started beating up a pizza delivery man, then Keith and Dawn showed up-

" _Unhand me, woman!_ "

" _Not until you spill the beans, Fuzzball!_ "

I stop in my tracks while making my way towards the stairs and look at the door right next to me. Did I just...

I slowly go up to the door, and- yes, I hear noises of a struggle going on beyond the door, Dawn yelling obscenities like her life depends on it and Keith yelling in... terror? What is going on-

No, I don't want anything to do with what's going on; besides, I'm pretty sure Keith tried to hurt Flora last night-

All of a sudden, the door slams open and a terrified Keith runs straight into me, almost knocking me over. It takes him a second of looking right at me for him to widen his eyes – like when I first met him – and start shouting at my face.

"Trace! _You've got to help me-_ " He doesn't get any farther before a hand lands on his shoulder, holding him with an iron grip. Trailing the hand to it's owner, I see a set of familiar traveling clothes and-

Ooo, she looks _mad_. Dawn has a shadowed look on her face, only being enhanced by the dark circles under her eyes and the malicious glint in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again when she turns her head to me and her eyes go wide.

"Yeesh, what happened to you Trace?" The confused look suddenly goes to shock, and the hand holding Keith squeezes harder; Keith lets out a pained noise as he _wilts_ under her hand.

"Holy _shit_ , Trace," Her expression steadily becomes more horrified as Keith continues to slowly collapse. "I'm so sorry about last night; we heard some shouting and an explosion so Keith and I tried to check up on you but..." She stops herself right then, screwing her face up in confusion. She finally lets go of Keith, who slumps to the ground with a pitiful noise.

"Wait, _did_ Flora try to kill you?"

...Huh? Why did she ask _that_ , of all things- oh, right; she was off somewhere else while it happened.

"Um, _yeah_? I mean, she doesn't anymore, if that make it... better..." I trail off when Dawn's jaw suddenly drops, giving me this weird look. "What?"

"You..." She puts up a hand to gesture at me, but it drops back to her side. "You know what? Never mind. I've had too much weird shit thrown at me this early in the morning." She drags a hand down her face, her shoulders slumping.

Keith slowly stand up, off to the side, and gives another fearful look towards Dawn, then lets out a breath at the tired state she's in. He straightens his back and clothes, and looks over to me.

"Would you mind if I talk to you about something?"

* * *

My initial plan was to grab some coffee and then head back to my – _our_ – room to freshen up- I can _feel_ a cowlick sticking up and it's starting to grate on me. However, Keith saw it fit to explain himself first before I do anything else, _then_ decided to let me in on a bit of information that is between him and Trace about his ' _political problem_ ' back home.

The first part – about the 'bed incident', he called it – left me an embarrassed mess. Okay, so I completely overreacted over something that was my fault – _some would say that it wasn't the first time_ – and I was left feeling like shit _on top_ of my current situation. Well... that, and a few thoughts that are along the line of 'Why the _hell_ did I do that?' The first being that I'm probably slowly loosing it and being in a place that – _it dawned on me slowly_ – is probably not even on a _world map_ , back home.

Sure feels like the reason, that's for sure.

I was mostly out of it for Trace and Keith's talk, Fuzzball – the name grates on his nerves like no tomorrow, and an angry face is a _lot_ more favorable than that blank one he has – was kind enough to repeat information 'for Trace's sake.' I didn't catch the whole thing, but one thing that seemed interesting is that he's from an island, which is neat. Another thing I caught was that he was sent out here a handful of years ago to find him, which brought a question to mind of how _old_ is he?

Seeing how I can't exactly gauge age well because, well, _fur_ , voice is the only thing I have to go by. Even then, the range is around young adult, so maybe he started all of this searching when he was in his late teens- _at the earliest_. It's hard to tell, with how his tone tends to teeter into melancholy and mess up my estimates.

But going by how his screams are _girly_ – hell, _mine_ are less girly than his – my guess is 'probably older than me, but not by much.'

"-think about it... hey, Dawn?" I zone back in to reality, only now noticing that my coffee has gone cold and both of the boys are staring at me. "Why _are_ you with Keith?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Keith seems to stare _harder_ , somehow.

"Oh, um," I push the cold mug away from me, laying my arms crossed in front of me. "I'm trying to find my way home- I'm actually a foreigner-"

"Then why are there people who recognize you." Keith's stare turns accusing.

"I don't know." And isn't that the truth that I've been trying to ignore.

The whole 'people know me' thing is a bit weird- okay, it's freaky as hell, but what am I supposed to do? It all feels like some strange dream that I can't wake up from, but here I am...

 _Who knows what's going on back home. Ma and Papa don't even know if I'm even gone yet- unless the college calls them and lets them know that I'm not showing up to classes. They might start getting worried. If I never get back, they'll loose contact with their last kid. Hell, I'll never be able to check up on Danny, again. Oh god..._

"I don't believe you."

I flash him a glare. "Well it's not like I'm _trying_ to impress you."

I look back to Trace. "To finish answering your question; I figured traveling with someone who knows their way around was a good idea," I glance back at Keith. "Although Fuzzball is making it harder to keep it a _good_ idea."

A tense silence falls over us, the only one not glaring being Trace; who I can see looking between the two of us.

…

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" Keith and I both look over to the bluenette with a deadpan, and he visibly winces.

"Well," The chair scrapes the floor below me as I stand up. "Wouldn't want to interrupt your _important business_ , right?" I give the two a sardonic smile as I head towards the stairway.

I say one last thing loudly over my shoulder. "And who the fuck _drinks_ first thing in the morning?!"

* * *

It's been a few minutes since Dawn stormed off- I tried to call her back to ask what was going on, but something about the smile she gave us before stomping off left me less than enthusiastic to talk to her. Keith also looked like he wanted to say something, but she was long gone before he had the chance to say something.

We kept talking for a little longer, and Keith soon promised that he wouldn't do anything to Flora if we joined him. Really, that was the only thing I wanted from him, but the refresher for information while Dawn was still here was nice- it's still a bit hard to remember some things while. Well, that and...

There might've been another reason why I agreed to have Keith join us again.

I headed back to the room, Keith following me until we reached his room. When we reached it, Dawn was already packed and waiting outside of the room, room key in hand. Keith had the look of wanting to say something – again – but before he could say anything Dawn slapped the key into his chest and said "I'll be outside." She walked off, leaving an awkward atmosphere where we are now.

Keith went into the room, muttering something about 'demon woman' and shut the door.

What got those two mad at each other?

That thought was thrown away as I entered my room, finding Flora slowly brushing herself with a brush in front of the dresser mirror. Time to see how she thinks of this...

"I'm back!" Flora looks up from her grooming and- _whoa_.

"Oh, hey, Trace!" She shows off herself, and everything is so _smooth_. Her fur even has a sheen to it that wasn't there when it was all ruffled from the woods. "What do you think? I finally got a chance to brush my fur out after being in those woods."

I couldn't help the smile that grew on my face. "Wow, you look great, Flora!"

Seems like she couldn't, either. "Aww, thank you!"

"Hey, Flora," With my change of tone, she looked at me with a tilt to her head. "I just talked with Keith and Dawn; they want to travel with us again. Should we let them?"

"Dawn? And the basitin?" Flora set down the brush and frowned. "B-but I was hoping we'd be traveling... um..." She rubs one of her arms and looks off to the side. "Just the two of us. That, and Keith's mean!"

"Well, I was just thinking," I rub the back of my head and _whoa_ \- my face feels warm. "If we traveled with them to Keith's people, then..." I cough into my hand. "We would have more time to be... together. If we went straight to keidran territory, we – you know – wouldn't."

When I finish saying that, Flora seems to perk up at my last few words. Then, she suddenly pounces up from the dresser seat – _literally_ – and starts bundling up her things.

"Well then, let's get packing! Wouldn't want to keep them waiting _too_ long!" I let out a bemused laugh as she starts to put the brush – _when did Flora have a brush_ – away into her things. Soon, I follow suit and bring up my own backpack.

I didn't have to check through much of the pack; Flora suggested that we keep most of our things inside so that if we needed to leave, it would be a lot faster- and she's right, too! All I had to do was put in the handful of things that she sets on the bed and just pack it away. As Flora sets something down and turns around to go grab something else, her tail flicks out and knocks over the bag. I shoot my hand out to stop it from tumbling over, and thankfully only something small slips out of a side pocket...

The small object registers in my mind, and I slowly reach out a hand to grab it. It's paper-thin and square, and has a certain tiger depicted on it. She has a large, open-mouthed grin on her face as she tries to catch a glowing butterfly that's between her hands. I remember how happy Flora was to have this – practically jumping with joy – and how Dawn defended her and kept Keith along with us-

 _Speaking of..._

"One last thing, Flora?" I quickly – _carefully_ – slip the image into the pack. "Keith and Dawn had an... argument; apparently they woke up in the same bed and she took it the wrong way, or something." _That_ made Flora look at me with a surprised expression.

"They _did_?" Then her eyes widened. " _Wait_ , did Dawn... and _Keith_... _you know_..." She did some gestures, then seemed to wait for something.

"Um... did what, exactly?"

"...You know what, I'll ask her myself, Trace." She has a silver-white shirt in her hands; the very one I woke up in. "Are you going to wear this thing?"

"Nah, people tend to recognize me without..." As I take the shirt and start to put it into the bag, I stop.

An idea starts to bloom in my head.

"Actually, I think we can _not_ have you wear the ropes this time," I unfold the shirt and face Flora. "Mind putting your arms up?"

* * *

 _Bleh_ , this headache is _killing_ me, right now. As soon as I got outside, the headache seemed to worsen; it was manageable at first, but it suddenly skyrocketed to migraine levels and _ow_.

I _think_ I read up somewhere that after storms, air pressure gets all wonky and gives people headaches. Guess that it just stacks up if you already have one.

To make matters _worse_ , I have to deal with this fucked-up town's fad and doesn't _that_ just grate on my nerves more than the headache. I mean really, there's a _cage_ – steel box of bars and all – with a white wolf in chains down the street from me and he won't stop _staring at me_ -

Slow down, Dawn. I take a deep breath – wincing at the sharp spike of pain in my temple and other parts of my skull – and let it out. I'm going to get out of here, soon. Then it'll be back to traveling with everyone, and hopefully we _won't_ be trying to murder each other or something along those lines. Who knows, it might be fun this time around-

" _Did you have sex with Keith?_ "

" _What the_ _ **fuck**_ _-_ " I actually _jump_ at the sudden voice next to me – _when did I close my eyes_ – and a particularly slick piece of mud slides from underneath me- "Gah!"

"Oh no- I'm so sorry!" A fuzzy hand grabs onto my arm and tries to pull me up, but it takes another hand – this one feeling like skin – grabbing my other arm to hoist me back onto my feet.

The feeling of mud is all down my left side, and I take the cleaner side of my right shirt to wipe off the layer of mud on the left side of my face. Only then do I open my eyes to...

"Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

Trace is shaking off some mud from where he grabbed my caked arm, dressed in different clothes from when I saw him a couple of days ago, but it's _Flora_ that has me borderline catatonic. Why, you ask?

No. Freaking. _Pants._

"Huh?" She has the _audacity_ to look _puzzled_ , then seems to realize what's up. "Oh, right, this is normal."

...Is she serious? She's serious, isn't she? There's no way she's _actually_ -

Trace speaks up from wiping the remnants of the wet dirt on his pants. "Trust me; she's telling the truth. At least I hope she is..." He mumbles the last part under his breath, giving the worried tiger a side-eye.

"So..." I look back over to Flora, the questioning look back on her face. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" I give her a bewildered look.

"You know... with Keith?"

I look over to Trace, but he seems about as confused as I am.

Unless...

"Are you talking about last night?" I slowly say to her-

" _Yes!_ " I finch backwards from the loud response, almost slipping again into the mud.

"Alright, _yeesh_ ," I start brushing off the filth as I answer her. "Yes, I got drunk and _kinda_ dragged Keith into bed on accident. I don't really remember it, but this morning was almost fun; his face was... priceless..." My words drift off at the shocked look on her face.

"Um, Trace? I think I broke your girlfriend." _That_ brought both of them into a coughing fit, my silent question being answered by Flora.

"We're not, um, _together_ like that."

Wait- hold on," My brow creased further, the headache getting worse and worse- spreading onto other place on my head. "Then what was going on last night?"

Both of them seemed to get flustered as the words sink in, and an awkward silence ensues over the three of us.

One that's broken by Flora's stomach growling.

"Oh, _that's right_ ," Trace loudly says. "I need to get some more food for us _I'llberightbackbye_!" And practically _sprints_ off in a direction, almost slipping on some wet spots of muck.

Leaving me with a gossip of a tiger.

...Note to self: try to get some dirt on Trace and get vengeance-

"What's up your ears?" Flora abruptly says and _okay she close again_. Is this a normal thing for keidrans, or is it a 'Flora' thing-

Wait, my ears?

"What about them?" I notice an itchy feeling in my left ear, and use a clean finger to scoop out – you guessed it – more mud. Guess I'll never get into mud bath...

"They're all... _pointy_."

... _what._

Not caring about cleanliness, I put up my left hand to the dirty ear and feel around-

I flinch away from my hand, then slowly bring it back up to trace the tips of my now _pointy ear_. It has length to it, now, and I shoot up my other hand to the right ear and- yup, it's just as pointy as the other one.

"What the..." With no small amount of rising panic, I frantically open up my satchel and take out the camera. With unsteady hands, I turn my head to the side and quickly take a picture.

"Um... Dawn?" I don't look up as I wait for the photo to spit out, arms shaking the small slip of film as it prints out.

I grab the picture and stare at it. Waiting. Everything around me seems to slow down as I focus on what's about to show up on the processing photo. With an agonizing pace – amplified by the migraine – color appears on the photo, and soon with it, an image.

An image of me with ears not unlike an elf from a fantasy novel.

The picture falls from my hand, and everything seems to just... stop. Something isn't right, and I don't have a clue about what the _hell_ is going on. This place – wherever 'this place' is – is changing me- _physically changing me_.

For the second time in my life, I don't know what to do. It wasn't until I felt Flora start dragging me somewhere that my feet start moving on auto-pilot. It took me a second of my feet stumbling forward for me to zone in back to reality and see where we were going.

It was towards that caged white wolf, who's giving _both_ of us a smile; more so to Flora.

"Uh, Flora?" The tiger doesn't seem to hear me, and I now only notice the _huge_ grin on her face. Said grin was pointed to the wolf, a look on her face that radiates familiarity.

Flora stops in front of the cage and look to the wolf. "Euchre, this is Dawn; she's a good human, don't worry." She then looks back to me. "Dawn, this is a friend of mine since I was a kitten."

Now that I'm closer, he looks a bit... odd. Despite being inside of a cage, he looks awfully relaxed, not a single line of tension can be seen in his green eyes – with a pair of glasses resting on his wolfish face – and he's sitting on a chair with a finger holding his place in a book. As to the contents of the book, the cover has some strange lettering in some language I don't understand.

He looks over to Flora after doing a similar scan of me. "She does look quite dirty; are you sure you didn't just pull a beggar off the streets? That, and she has some... _unique_ ears."

...Oh he did _not_ just-

"Look, Shakespeare, if it wasn't for Flora over here I would be alright." I shoot a deadpan at both keidrans.

Instead of something witty or intelligent coming from the wolf – he looks the type to be witty, I think – or Flora being indignant, both of them shared a surprised look between them.

"W-wait, you can... speak keidran?" Flora stutters out, looking slightly confused. Strangely enough, it's the wolf who looks more confused than Flora.

"What do you mean? He said that in English."

Flora only looks more confused at my answer. "English? What's _English_?"

 _...Okay..._ I have too many things being thrown at me, all at once. I press my fingers to my temples and give Flora an impatient look.

"Look; it's way too early for this, so why don't you tell me the reason I was dragged over here?" Flora lets out a frustrated sigh at my own frustration.

"Okay Dawn, I know I might be asking for too much, but I need you to keep an eye on Euchre while I get Trace; he's the only one who can get him out of here. Can you do that for me? Please?" As the icing on the cake, Flora actually puts her hands together; her eyes look to be on the verge of tears and everything.

...Why do I have to be a cat person?

"Alright, _alright_ , just put those away; they're dangerous." I let out an explosive sigh and lean against one of the bars to Euchres cage. Flora lets out a small cheer, and shocking me slightly she hugs me.

" _Thank you thank you thank you!_ I'll be right back!" And there she goes, running off on her weird feet that everything but humans have. Leaving me with Euchre.

Looking over to the wolf, he goes back to reading that book of his. Again, I can't understand the language it's written in, but he seems to understand it as he flips to the next page.

"Were you really- well, _are_ you really talking in another language?" I ask him. He glances up from his reading, look off to the side in thought, then goes back to his book.

"I am currently speaking in keidran, yes." _Flip._ Yeesh, he's a speed reader.

"Well, if it's any consolation I can't read what that book is." His only response is to look up from his book to scrutinize me for a second. "Is that book written in keidran?"

"It is indeed! It's a _fascinating_ book about a man with – supposedly – two souls. It's a story that I feel a lot of keidran seem to relate to, unfortunately. It's a human book translated into keidran." _Flip._ And he's back to reading. Great-

Wait, two souls?

" _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?_ "

" _Ah_ , that's the name! I'm guessing that you've read it?" I can see the interest in his eyes, but now I've lost myself- again.

I remember reading that book as something mandatory, back in high school. I got through the book fairly quickly, and because of that Danny got bored one day and started reading it when I left it on the table in the living room, one day. He seemed immensely engrossed in it, and when I gave the book back to my teacher before he could finish he went out and bought a copy, himself. It was his favorite book, he always said...

I shake my head. "It's been a few years. Although... I've always felt that the guy had more excuses than reason for what he did."

"That is one way to look at it; to each their own, I suppose..." _Flip._ Good, now I can get back to this headache of mine. Why would Flora need Trace to bust out Shakespeare, anyways? Can't someone just jimmy the lock, or something?

Yet again, Trace is – supposedly – an important figure; maybe he has some sway in how things are run around here? _Shit_ , I think Keith said something about him while he was having that conversation, earlier-

...God, I was being such a bitch, looking back on it. It wasn't his fault that he doesn't know my entire situation, it's just people prying in on my stuff is a pet peeve of mine. Does that make me a terrible person? Nah, people need their privacy...

Well, sometimes, people need to pry in order to get help. I can think of a _very good_ example, for one. Guess I can understand how hard it was, huh Danny?

My headache gets worse, and I can _feel_ a look being shot at me from the wolf but I ignore it. The sharp pain originating from my temples have moved towards two parts on the top of my head. As for why it hurts worse _there_ , I haven't the faintest idea. And I'm covered in all this _muck_...

I barely noticed the animated tiger running up to us until I see her right in front of me, a frown on her face.

Flora must've saw it, because she frowned and started heading towards me first.

"Is something wrong, Dawn? You look kinda... _out of it_."

"I'll be fine," I let out a small groan as I push off of the cage. I ignore the disbelieving look and try to give her a smile-turned-grimace. "Just... the sooner we get out of this city, the better. It gives me the creeps..." She only gives me a nod, looking back to Euchre. Her smile seems to come back by just _looking_ at him.

"Hey, Euchre! I brought some friends!" I look behind her and- okay, I somehow missed seeing Trace and... _Keith_.

I try not to acknowledge the worried look that he gives me. Instead I try to make some space while I rub the spots on my head. I hear the droning of conversation behind me, bu the words escape me as I lean against an empty cage. Yeesh, the coffee isn't kicking in fast enough-

"Dawn-"

" _What?_ " I almost jump at the _**growl**_ that said the word, and I actually do it when I find out it was _me_. The hell-

I turn around to look at who's talking to me, and I blink at the wide-eyed look on the basitin's face. Looking around him, Trace is walking off and Flora is back to talking – quietly, thankfully – to Euchre. Did I already miss everything; what's Trace doing-

"Trace is trying to find someone to free the wolf."

Wait, did I-

"-say that out loud..." At the chastising look, I let out a sigh and rub my head harder, trying to will the headache down enough to _focus_. I go to say something, but Keith beats me to the punch-

"Your nose is bleeding."

"What?" I bring down my hand to touch under my nose, touching something wet and warm. Pulling back my hand reveals the crimson fluid of fresh blood. "The hell-"

And then everything went _weirdwrong_ _ **horrific**_ -

 _Then my world became deafening_ _ **noise**_ _and_ _ **static**_ -

* * *

I should be more invested into this conversation; it _does_ pertain to my future and Trace's, after all. I continue to list off more details about my... predicament to the amnesiac, as we walk back to the front of the inn. I was out to look for some last-minute supplies, and I happened to run into Trace on the way back. He almost didn't recognize me, thanks to the cloak.

I guess Dawn had a point- he looked read to either bolt or – if the glow around his hand meant anything – use _magic_.

Speaking of her...

 _What is her problem?_ First, she get herself into this mess from this morning; but she realizes her mistake afterwards, so it's fine. But then I ask her why people know her despite being a 'foreigner', and suddenly she's defensive about herself. Something isn't right about her, I just can't tell _what_. But yet again...

I messed up.

I should've asked more... politely. Instead, I rushed things and ended up not getting anything more out of Dawn.

I shouldn't have been such an _idiot_.

...But what should I say to her? A simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it; we're already in bad waters with each other from yesterday morning. But I can't just... _do nothing_!

At some point, the _keidran_ came running up to us and started talking about bringing _another keidran_ into the group. I felt that I could've resisted more, but my mind was elsewhere- obviously. I think back to question the reason why I'm even fretting over this in the first place, and last night always come back to the forefront of my mind, shouting 'Here's your answer!'

Which only bring up _more_ questions. Questions that I've already asked – and answered – last night, more that come from the mystery behind Dawn, and the biggest one of them all:

' _Why do I bother?_ '

When I pull myself out of my reverie, we're moving again; this time, the keidran is running back towards a street near the inn. It takes a short while of this before a couple of cages lined on the side of the road come into view. There isn't any occupants in them, all except for one.

One which Dawn is leaning against. Who happens to be rubbing their head with a pained look on her face. What's up with her? I give the _wolf_ in the cage a distrusting look – _great, another one_ – and watch as Trace goes off to find the captor. He really needs to stop being so... _trusting_.

Yet again, I wouldn't have gotten him to come along without said trusting nature.

I look back to check on Dawn, but the human moved over to another cage to lean against, facing away from me. She's back to rubbing her head, her shoulders hunched forward in what must be pain. I walk over to her, holding up a hand to place on her shoulder.

"Dawn-"

My hand stops and goes back to my sword as a growling _hiss_ suddenly interrupts me. I look around for the source, but the sound brings me back to Dawn, who looks to have heard the sound...

Unless _she_ made it? There's no way she did.

"Did I miss everything..." She's looking behind me, at what must've already conspired.

"Trace is trying to find someone to free the wolf." Dawn's eyes widen at my words, her hands balling into fists and grinding into her skull.

"...I say that out loud?"

...Is she serious? I give her a deadpan as she seems to _wilt_ at the realization. Gah, I'm supposed to be having a _normal_ conversation with her, not berating her-

Her nose starts to bleed.

"You're nose is bleeding." It doesn't seem to stop anytime soon, and her hand shoots down from her head to dab at the crimson.

"What the..." Her voice starts to turn faint-

I hear shouting behind me, and I turn around to see down the street the tiger getting thrown back by some form of magic, the caster being some blond human in Templar robes. Said mage has a struggling Trace in some form of magical binds, suspending him midair-

 _Thud._

Turning back, Dawn just collapsed to the ground, convulsing as she keeps a death grip on her hair.

"Dawn?!" I can't help but shout as I crouch down to her side, useless as I watch her twitch and writhe to some unknown source of pain-

Then she started screaming as an explosion goes off behind me, throwing me onto the screeching human. I roll off of Dawn to look at the cause of the explosion...

Trace. He's changed, almost like the nightmarish rumors that I've heard about him. Has he returned; the sinister version of him-

The screams devolved into yelled sobs, and I hear a sickening sound like bones crunching and flesh moving. Looking over to Dawn, I...

" _By all that is holy..._ "

She's still convulsing, pain contorting her face and body into odd angles that look painful in itself, but it's the new additions on her head that my eyes lock on to, staring on in horrid fascination.

For on top of Dawn's head is a pair of horns, slick with blood that trickles down her pained visage. It's shape curves outwards from the front part of the top of her head, looping back to almost have the two points meet, only for it to jut backwards just before touching.

(If it wasn't for the face of agony on Dawn or the battle-turned-slaughter happening _right behind me_ , I would've thought it like a bloody halo; akin to a human's depiction of an angel.)

Then, with a final yell – and a mixture of blood, sweat and tears rolling down her face to the ground, she falls still.

...no...

My body seems to move on its own, my arms cradling her closer as I put an ear to her chest, listening for a sign of life-

A faint beat reaches my ear, along with labored, ragged breathing. She's _alive_. I let out a breath I didn't know I held in, and it's only now that I hear the lack of fighting behind me. Turning around, I see the smoking craters and burning debris of explosions most likely made by Trace, with both keidrans – _how did he escape the cage; it's been blown to bits_ – alive and well, with an unconscious blue-haired human on the wolf's shoulders.

In the background, the ominous Templar tower is smoking like a chimney; the distant shouts of alarm coming from said destruction.

I pick up Dawn – _carefully_ – and hold onto her as I jog over to the others. Dawn doesn't let out any noises, and I have to tell myself that she's breathing and _alive_ and not just a corpse in my arms. When I reach the three, the tiger looks back over to me and her eyes instantly go to the horns on Dawn's head.

"What _happened_?" Her eyes are full of worry, but she doesn't take a step closer- it must be the horns, if her gaze has anything to say about it. Before I could voice my own confusion the wolf interrupts, his eyes going from Dawn to everyone else.

"We need to leave; the tower's destruction will only distract them for so long." I only now notice the scorched bar in his hand that looks _vaguely_ like the same bars that held him, before he starts moving off to the outskirts, the tiger not far behind.

Well, only one way to go from here. I give one last, long look at Dawn to see how safely secure she is, then start off after the keidrans.

 _What are you, Dawn?_

* * *

...Hmm. This wasn't exactly how the plan was supposed to go, but at least my part is done.

I slink up to my feet, walking further into the back alleys of the city. Every now and then, I had to cross a street, which is populated with people staring in morbid fascination of the destroyed tower. _That_ part was predicted, but I know of a few people that wouldn't think of it as such. Such petty people, they are...

After a few more alleys and streets, I creep into the next – and last – one, checking to see if anyone noticed – none did – and blinked up next to my master. There they stand, appearing to overlook the chaos running throughout the city; the sounds of panicked yells can still be heard all over.

"Has it been done?"

"...partly." I hear the silent go-ahead to elaborate. "There was heavy resistance; something is pushing my will back, keeping her heritage under lock."

A tsk. "Should've known _she_ kept her tracks covered." A beat. "But yet again, I anticipated that. You know the contingency plan, in case something of this nature happens."

A nod. "Yes, master."

A sound, one not unlike sparks and paper tearing, suddenly appears, and with it an angry shout.

" _Ephermural!_ " Out of the magical residue of smoke comes one of my old coworkers, perfect blond hair more than frazzled and a rage burning in his eye. Then the two-toned gaze moves over to me. " _You._ "

"Me." Even though my situation is... _unique_ , it doesn't mean that snark is out of the question. It certainly does put a smile on my face when he gets all huffy.

Like right now.

"Look at what you've done! You've destroyed _everything_!" He starts screeching at master, then looks towards me. "And _you_ ," He even has the courage to walk up into my face. "You _traitor_ -"

"It wasn't anything personal, just doing what I've been made to do." The statement – along with the monotone delivery – seems to make him stop and _think_ for a moment, then his anger seems to boil over and his hands raise with a wicked-looking bolt being prepared to cast-

-only for it to phase through me, as if it never existed. The expression on his face is _priceless_.

"What..." His face quickly goes from blind rage to shocked horror, but I stop reveling in it to look over to master.

"I'll begin with the contingency, master."

A wave of a hand. "Go, I have to deal with this pest, anyways."

I couldn't help the smirk on my face at my former coworker's hackles being raised as I whisked myself away.

Now... time to prepare the backup plan.

* * *

 **A/N: That's a wrap! Ho boy, that one was a thing-and-a-half. There was a few moments where I had to rewrite the whole thing and fix a few moments in between, which was nauseatingly frustrating. On the bright side, it. Is.** _ **Done.**_

 **So, as you might've seen (if you read the previous version of this story...)**

 **We're all caught up! Neat, right? If you've read through all of this, and compare it to the old version of this, then you know that one; way higher word count, and two; it's definitely different.**

 **Especially the horn thing. That's new. And the villainous plot thing, too. And the handful of mysteries surrounding Dawn. And- you get the idea.**

 **Now, with that out of the way, it's time for some Review Responses:**

 **TigerWarrior1998:** **Hello, again! Thanks for pointing that out; I now have a small sticky note with the correct spellings of stuff written down, for ease of access; thanks to you! Yeah, Elaine not being included is a bit sad, but that's because I'm going off into a different-ish direction, and having to juggle more characters than what's in canon is a bit more than what I can handle. As for if the Keith being in on the pizza party thing- that was already canon; I just nudged it into a more friendly direction... I think. As for how everything else is going to roll out (when it comes to staying canon or not) you'll just have to find out.**

 **r** **ocketpen:** **Well hello, new guy. Welcome, and hope you enjoy the ride!**

 **That's all, for now. Hope you enjoyed, and have a good one!**

 **P.S.: So how weird would it be if the sequel to this fic became a crossover? Because I'm thinking of a certain magic system from a movie and I'm liking the feeling it does to my brain when I introduce it to the Twokinds universe. Like, a lot.**


	6. Monsters and Water

**A/N: Hello! Welcome back to another chapter of Polarized!**

 **I'm going to say this: I took liberties on _how_ Adrakists exist, because the comic has yet to reach the point where it explains the **_**how**_ **of 'how they're made', other than having a dragon do it. And something tells me that a dragon didn't turn Saraphina into one.**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **Look: I have to be delusional to think I own Twokinds. Which I do not own. Capiche?**_

* * *

 _It was an odd feeling- where my consciousness currently is._

 _It feels as if it... lost. As if a heavy mist has been pulled over my thoughts and slowed down any and all feeling down to a crawl. Distantly, I could swear there's the sound of rain._

 _It confused me – the rain – but for the life of me, I couldn't understand why-_

 _A series of drops fall onto my face, and I feel my face twitch as the water droplets slide off my face. Slowly – the fog seems to make everything I do slow – I open my eyes to look at my surroundings._

 _The first thing I notice is all the_ _ **water**_ _. There's a good foot of water surrounding me, and the floating feeling I had came from resting atop said liquid. From what I can smell, it... salty._

 _As to what the water is flooding, it appears to be some sort of blank void of black. The only thing that is clearly visible is the salty water surrounding me. From my sitting position in the water, there doesn't seem to be anything notable in the inky black._

 _Except when I look into the horizon, in a certain direction; there, lies a pale yellow dot. The sun, maybe?_

 _At first, I didn't notice it, but the mist in my mind seems to slowly lift the longer I look around. A whispering- incoherent and laced with desperation echoes around the empty waters. The words escape me, almost as if I'm just listening to the wails of some injured creature, but the noise is too uniform to be such._

 _I slowly stand up, watching the water slide off of – just now noticing this, why are my thoughts so_ _ **slow**_ _– my naked form, meeting no resistance to rejoin itself with the rest of it fluid kind. Looking around, I can't find what could be making the distant mumbling..._

 _But it's getting louder. Slowly, but it's gaining volume. It's still as disjointed as it was before, but there seems to be one thing that stands out to me the most-_

 _"... **Maria**..." _

_That one word, and then everything quickly descended back into silence._

 _Then the water below me starting rippling, slowly moving outwards. For some reason, I have pants now, and some sort of rough bandaging around my chest. The water starts churning outwards, making small wakes that keep pushing away from something-_

 _I turn around, expecting something to be waiting there..._

 _Only to find nothing. Even the water has stopped rippling. Only... there is some sort of disturbance_ _ **in**_ _the water, but there clearly isn't anything in it. I lean in closer, getting on my knees to see closer-_

 _A flash of something blue on the surface, and a_ _ **snarling, enraged blue thing is staring at me with it's dark amber**_ _-_

And I shoot up from my spot on the floor, trying to and up and _run from the_ _ **thing**_ -

Only to fall flat on my face, letting out a pained grunt as I make contact with the earth. My breathing is damn near hyperventilation as I right myself and frantically look around.

I let out a shaky breath when I see no signs of blue or dark amber orbs – _staring at me_ – slapping a hand to my face in relief as I look around.

My brows furrow.

Since when did I get into a tent? I try to think back to when I managed to get into one, but I only get a blank from this morning. Is it even the same day? I sit up, ignoring the pain of the headache – and the damp cloth sliding off my forehead – as I inspect myself.

For a second, I thought I lost my shirt _and_ bra until I looked across from myself and saw both of them set off to the side in the tent, folded neatly. The only thing keeping me modest is a series of cloth strips – or a single one, I don't know which – wrapped around my torso. Thankfully, I still have my pants on, and looking to the other side of me shows my satchel within arms reach. The best part is that the mud that I remember being caked in is scrubbed off; which is _amazing_ -

…

I remember these clothes. I... was wearing them in the dream, right before that _thing_ showed up. Speaking of, I seem to remember the dream with oddly high clarity; the feeling of rain, the dark lake, the pale sun... The bare whisper of a voice, saying a name that rings a bell, but for what reason? I try to think if I know any 'Maria's-

And then the soreness on my head says hi.

" _Ow..._ " The oddly deep vibration of morning voice makes me jump for a second, but I clear my throat and feel some gunk get removed. Morning voice is _not_ something I'm great at, thank you very much.

...Something isn't right, here. I feel like I'm missing something... besides the freaky 'water dream', that is.

Eh, I'll just go outside and ask someone. I crawl off of some sort of sleeping mat – _slowly; headaches are still a thing_ – and take a peek outside. The sight I'm greeted with is a forest, some time in the early evening. The sky is slowly loosing it's blue hue and is shifting into it's dusk colors, casting the campsite I'm situated in with a warm glow. There's a large, brown walk-in tent next to me, with a few other personal tents scattered around the clearing-

And there's Flora, pacing on the opposite side of the large tent from where I am.

She's also not wearing anything. As in she's naked.

A part of me stops as I'm in the middle of standing to get a better look of the camp. That proves to be a terrible reaction as I stumble and fall on my side outside the tent.

The nude tiger looks in my direction. Her eyes latch onto mine and I _swear_ I saw her get worried about something-

"Uh-" Is all I get out before a blur of orange and black rushes over to me.

"Oh, Dawn! You're awake!" I lock my gaze onto the relieved smile as I try to ignore the _obvious problem_. "Here, let me help you up..."

She leans down and starts helping me to my feet, and a part of me is glad that she did. My head feels... off, like I'm lightheaded without my vision swimming from it. It's weird, for one, and I'm glad for some help. On the other hand...

I catch my vision slowly drifting downwards and I jut my eyes back up to the smiling tiger _who has really sharp teeth ho boy_ -

"So, how are you feeling? Any pain?" I work my jaw as I try to respond, and my voice seems to finally find itself-

" _Why are you naked?_ "

-only to wheeze out _that_. And my voice still sounds oddly husky- damn morning voice.

Time seems to halt as Flora's hand on my shoulder tenses, her eyes widening and a part of her seems to curl in on herself.

Oddly enough, this situation feels... familiar, somehow. I feel my face screw up concentration, trying to think back to... to...

"Hey," I put a hand up to my forehead. "You know what; this isn't even the weirdest thing I've seen. Just... do you know what happened? I can't really remember what happened this morning." I look down at myself. "Or why I don't have a shirt on." The weird husky quality still hasn't left, but I stay focused on the squirming tiger in front of me while also trying to not acknowledge the fact that she's not wearing _anything_.

Flora seems to flick her eyes somewhere above my head, but her eyes shoot down back to mine. "Oh, um... it's been a day; you passed out yesterday morning."

"W-wait- hold up, _it's been a day_?" At her nod – and another glance upwards – I register the second part. "Why did I pass out; did something happen to me?"

Flora seems to struggle with something – and she keeps looking above me – to the point where she's wringing her tail in... anxiety? What happened this mor- yesterday? Then she drops her tail-

-and steps _right in front of me_ , taking my shoulders into her hands. My eyes strain from keeping eye contact.

"Dawn," Her voice took on a more gentle tone. "I'm going to need you to stay calm. Whatever I tell you, just know that I'm here still. Okay?"

Now _I_ tense up. There is a naked tiger currently holding me still, and the slightly worried gaze she gives me – with a hefty portion of sincerity – and-

 _A massive headache. Being inside of a personal tent, feeling oddly nice besides the headache. The_ _ **damn headache**_ -

My heart drops to my stomach as I blurt out with a horrified voice.

" _Did we have drunk sex?_ "

…

Her expression is the definition of 'what' and I breathe out a sigh of relief. " _Oh thank god_ , I didn't fall for a shitty trope- I mean, no offense; you're hot and stuff, but there's Trace and-"

Then her claws sink in. "Dawn, _no_!" She seems to notice the claws and retract them, pulling back her hands. "Look, it's just-"

"Dawn?"

I look over to the side, seeing Keith stepping out of the treeline, some dead rabbits in hand. He's casting me a relieved look, but then he seems to take in my appearance finally.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

I throw my arms up in the air. "That's what I would _like_ to know, but I guess we can't know everything."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flora – _still naked, for some reason_ – miming strangling the basitin. I would've laughed if I wasn't so frustrated with the lack of knowing what's going on.

…

"You, uh..." I jab a thumb in Flora's direction. "You wouldn't happen to have heard what I said, did you?"

"...no. Why?"

"No reason! Uh, yeah..." I clear my throat, and I finally decide to address _an_ issue. "So what's with my throat; did some guy throat-punch me so hard that I forgot yesterday and sound... hoarse?"

The two non-humans share a look, then look somewhere above me, then back down to my face-

"Why are you guys looking above me?" I look up, myself, but other than the empty canopy above us, there's nothing interesting. The sky _does_ look particularly nice, though.

"You haven't told her yet?" I look back down to Keith, watching him give Flora an accusing look.

"Well I _would have_ , if you didn't come along and interrupt me!" She crosses her arms across her brea- _chest_ , a huffy look on her face.

"Tell me _what_?" I watch both of them look between each other, motioning towards me with increasingly aggressive gestures. I feel an itch come from an odd strand of bed-hair, and bring a hand up to itch it. Now that I think about it, I haven't properly brushed my hair in a while-

My hand pokes something hard, my head knocking a bit to the back at the contact.

The two bickering in front of me go dead silent and stare at the spot above me.

I slowly bring my hand to the hard object, feeling it curve slightly from the top of my head and forming a strange halo-esque shape, ending in two points that go upwards at the back. Ever so slowly, I trace the object forwards to it's point of origin-

-and feel it connect to the base of my skull, exactly where the soreness and itching is coming from.

" _What the..._ "

"Dawn, I was just about to tell you," She take a step towards me, and in the rising panic in me I reflexively take one back.

"What's going on?" I feel my back bump into the tent I came out of and the feeling of being cornered went haywire- " _What's wrong with me?!_ "

I keep frantically pulling at the _thing_ attached to my skull, yanking at it and pulling until I couldn't take the pain in my head anymore and-

-a fuzzy hand, one that feels so _nice_ and _warm_ , calmly grips mine.

"Dawn," I look up, and Keith is standing there with a calm expression and... something else? "There's a pond nearby. Come here..."

Slowly, he pulls me to my feet, and a part of me latches onto him as he leads me into the wood. It only takes a minute of walking – filled with deep breaths and unsteady exhales – before I'm lead to said pond.

A part of me looks at it and wants to get away from it, thinking of a blue monster with yellow eyes. The other part of me...

The other part of me really wants to see what happened to my head, and the pond – strangely enough – feels as if it's calling out to me, begging me to get closer.

I distantly hear Keith say something, but I let go of him and slowly move to the waters edge. I go to my knees, preparing myself to look over at my reflection...

But I couldn't. I just sat there, staring over the pond and watching the two creeks flowing water through this small pocket. The light of dusk casts its orange glow over the surface, painting a beautiful picture.

What if I've been disfigured? What if whatever happened to me left me with something that would hurt just to look at in the mirror? Normally, I wouldn't be so vain, but... I'll be honest with myself- I wasn't graced with drop-dead gorgeousness in the first place, but it was _alright_ , in my opinion. And now it feels like there's _horns_ on my head? But yet again...

 _We're Underwoods; we just take what life gives us and move on._ That's what Papa told me; back when kids teased me to no end; back when I got into trouble in high school; back when Danny...

I let in one last breath, letting it out quickly in a huff and peering over the edge.

And I almost didn't recognize myself.

The one thing that instantly caught my attention was the freaking _horns_ on my head. The shape of them was like what I saw earlier; almost like some sort of navy blue halo. It's definitely is _there_ , and something tells me that it can't really be hidden.

Then I looked at the rest of my face and my jaw _dropped_. I looked...

"Dawn?" I can hear Keith walk up to my side, crouching down next to me. "Are you-"

" _I look fucking_ _ **hot**_ _._ " I breathe out, hearing Keith make some sort of choking sound.

Overall, my face is still, well, _mine_. Everything in general still looks the same- especially the oddly cute nose Papa was so insistent is _adorable_ and was 'so much like your mother's'. But the rest of my face looks _sharpened_ , for the lack of a better word. My jawline is less rounded, my cheekbones are a tad more angular, and my ears look like something out of a fantasy story; like an elf's ears.

My eyes and hair color seem to be the last thing I notice. The color of them took on a more orange-amber color, with the pupils looking cat-like. My hair had lightened up some, going from a dark brunette to something resembling dirty blonde.

Other than needing to cut my bangs back a bit, I almost look... _exotic_.

"Wait, hold on," I somehow managed to drag my gaze away from my reflection to look at an incredulous Keith. "How are you _not_ panicking? You looked like you were about to have a heart attack a while ago."

"Well yeah, but," I gesture to my face, looking back at my reflection. "That was when I thought someone broke my face in, not _this_." I point at the reflection, watching Keith lean over to also look at it. " _This_ , is something I can live with; happily. I could deal without the horns, though..." I lifted a hand up to the horns and frowned; but there's no real displeasure behind it.

There's a bit of silence coming from Keith before he sighed. "I don't know why I worried so much."

"Oh, don't be that way," I stand up alongside him, grinning at him.

"When it comes to you, I need to be." He sniffs, crossing his arms.

"Come on, you know you love me." I do a playful slug at his arm, watching him try _so hard_ – and failing – at suppressing a smile.

"Oh no, you're smiling," I put on a face of mock horror. "It must be the end of the world; I'm sprouting horns, you're _happy_ -" I burst into laughter at the glare he sends my way. "Nevermind, you're still you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The glare let up, and the atmosphere between us is still amiable.

"Well..."

We talked like that for a while, meandering around the wood for a while. At first, I thought we were lost – and I said as much, to Keith's chagrin – but we ended up back at base camp before long. I remember the argument – well, more so me acting like an ass – and while some part of me feels bad about that, but... Well, I hope trying to make him smile would fix things; I don't do well with apologizing without slipping in something snarky or insulting.

...I am _not_ a very good person in that regard, am I? Well, at least that was me back in high school. High school is always full of angst and stuff, so... yeah.

Flora looked up from her pacing to give us weird looks at my laughing like a lunatic, Keith just shaking his head.

And then a white wolf came out of the big tent, looking to say something to Flora before noticing us. He looks... _really_ familiar, for some reason. But I still can't remember much from this morn- yesterday morning; everything after I walked outside is just a blur. I _think_ I saw him at some point?

He gave me a smile. "Ah, good to see you awake, Dawn. Accommodating well with your new additions?"

I give him a wary look. "Um... yeah? How are you, again? And do you know anything about these?"

"Euchre; I'm an old friend of Flora's." He gives the horns a scrutinizing look. "As for those, I _would_ say you attempted to make yourself an Adrakist, but I've never seen a transformation done quite... _painfully_."

I blinked. "Um, I did _what now_?"

"Sorry, let me correct myself-" Before he could continue, Keith spoke up.

"How can you understand him, Dawn?" I look over to see him giving me a confused look.

"What do you mean-" I cut myself off and gave _him_ a glare, watching him flinch back at I jab a finger in his chest. "Keith, I swear; if you're being an ass just because he's a keidran-"

" _No_ , not that," He has the audacity to roll his eyes and continue. "He's talking in another language; _I'm_ speaking in a different language, right now."

I give him a look as if he just grew two heads. "Um, _no_ , you're not."

"Believe me, I am."

"Well you don't see _me_ speaking in another language, now do ya?"

"You could be faking it." He crosses his arms over his chest, giving me another hard stare.

I cross my arms, giving him the same look. "Well seeing how you're still speaking English, I don't think so; I'm not stupid, Keith."

He furrowed his brows. "Wait, what's _English_."

...He's not serious, is he?

"It's what we're talking in. Like, right now."

"No, we're not. You," He points to me. "Are talking in human. _I'm_ speaking in the language of keidrans."

" _Hey!_ " We both jump at the shout, looking over to Flora. Sheesh, she has a pair of lungs on her. "How about we agree that whatever is happening around Dawn is weird, okay?"

It's right about now that I remembered that she _still_ isn't wearing anything, any my mind seems to just hone in on that one fact. Stupid brain...

"Why are you still not wearing anything? You never answered me, you know," Everyone suddenly looks to me, then looks over to Flora.

She sort of squirms under the attention. "It's a keidran thing, Dawn. That, and..." She rubs her arm – almost like she's petting it – and looks off to the side. "Clothes make me feel uncomfortable."

I give her a blank look. I open my mouth to say something.

"..." Then close it, try to gesture at her and say something again.

"... I got nothing." My arm falls back to my side. "I genuinely don't know what to say to that."

She seems to puff up at that. "There isn't anything _wrong_ with this, Dawn. We're both women, aren't we?"

"Two things wrong with what you just said," I point to the other two. "They're guys, first off. And I'm bi, so that's also a thing."

For the first part, she seemed a bit embarrassed for forgetting the other two people; who have decided to go back to their own thing- Keith back to his rabbits and the wolf to the big tent. _Then_ I said the second thing and everyone in the clearing _froze_ and looked at me.

"...what?"

"You..." Flora tries to get out, then just spills it all. "You _like_ -like women? As in... _that way_?"

I face palm. Right, olden times; they're a bit behind in that sense. Well, too late for tact, at least.

"Yeah, totally. Life's too short to be all choosy. That, and I could hardly care whoever I would end up loving looks like."

Flora blinked once. Twice. Then I see the inside of her ears turn red. " _Oh._ "

"Yeah. 'Oh.'"

An awkward silence falls over us, with Keith going back to doing whatever he is doing to the rabbits from earlier. The wolf is still giving me an odd look, though.

"So," I walk over to my tent, crawling inside to grab my clothes. "What happened to Trace?" When I didn't get an answer, I pull back out of the tent and see Flora looking forlornly at the large tent. "What happened?"

"You really don't remember?"

"No, not since I walked outside the inn."

"Oh, well," She sends yet _another_ look towards the tent – Euchre decided to go back inside – as she answers. "It's... he reverted to his old self, and hurt me before turning back to normal."

…

"I have no idea what that means-" The harming part registers. "Wait, you got hurt? Are you good?" I abandon my quest to put on a shirt and take a closer look at Flora.

I don't really see anywhere where she got hurt, but there's a hand that drifts towards her head and then moves back to her arms. There's a sad look that falls over her face, and she almost goes back to pacing.

I reach out and lightly lay a hand on her shoulder, the tiger stopping and looking back at me.

"You want to talk about it?" I give her a worried look. She looks to hesitate for a long while, fighting with something. When it comes to what I _think_ she's going through, I don't have personal experience; haven't found _the one_ yet, as Papa said I would find one day. I've heard of domestic abuse before, but... well, from one person who was hurt to another, talking helps.

"You don't have to, if you don't feel like it," I give her shoulder a squeeze. "Although, I'm all ears when you're ready." I give her one final pat before I turn back around and fish around in my tent for the rest of my clothes. Walking back towards the pond, I shoot over my shoulder, "I'll try and get myself clean, in the meantime!"

I don't hear an answer, and I let out a sigh. Hopefully, there isn't anything _wrong_ wrong happening; I barely have myself held together as is.

Soon, I retrace Keith's footsteps from earlier and head in the direction of the pond, allowing myself some time to think on the time I've lost. Thinking back, I clearly remember the morning – and subsequent teasing of Keith – and the... _incident_ from downstairs. I went back up to our- _my_ room, packed up my things, and went outside, where...

The only thing I can remember is the headache that has been building up the whole day – which I'm in the clear of, finally – progressively getting worse, and everything seems to just be flashes. Nothing consistent, frustratingly enough, but looking a bit more into it reveals that I _have_ met up with Flora and Trace, at some point, and I remember being dragged somewhere-

And why am I thinking of a book I read in _high school_?

Yeah, nothing really seems to make sense, after a point. I look back up to focus on the approaching pond, seeing a handful of fireflies floating around and lighting up the surface. Taking a reflexive glance around the immediate area, I see that nobody's around and quickly strip down – setting all of my clothes on a rock, nearby – and quickly walk into the water.

I have to shiver at the water's lack of heat, however. I guess this is a definite reminder that I'm not home, and just hiking around in who-knows-where with a bunch of non-humans and one with _blue hair_ , of all things. At least they're good to talk to... most of the time...

I just dip myself further into the chilly depths of the pond, taking in a deep breath as I do so-

And get a nose full of the smell of salt.

My eyes shoot open, looking down into the depths and expecting something _wrong_ -

Only to see my own feet in the crystal clear water, walking along the soft bottom of the pond.

...This _is_ a freshwater pond, right? A tongue dip into said water tells me otherwise; almost tastes like that one time I went to Virginia Beach and got a mouthful of seawater. I look up to the creeks, watching one dispense water into said basin while the other gets rid of it. It _should_ cycle out any stale water, right? Circulation and all that.

My curiosity getting the better of me, I half swim, half walk over to the burbling water pouring into the pond. I... _think_ there was something, somewhere, that said swamps tend to have salty water, and tends to make water moving out of them also the same- or was it mangroves? Damn, I would _kill_ to look something up on the internet, right now.

When I reach the creek that's flowing in, I take a handful of water from it and bring it to my lips, only to be surprised at the fresh taste of it. The creek is definitely flowing in – being pushed back lightly proves as much – but the pond is most definitely _salty_ ; so what's making it do so...

I look around underneath the water, looking for some odd plant or anything that stands out in it. Now that I look closer inside the water, there's a definite depth that dips down towards the center – myself having walked the edge to reach the creek – and there's more underwater vegetation collected there. Trying to look any closer doesn't yield anything, but I _swear_ there has to be a reason the water's so _off_.

And then I couldn't help but find my sudden fascination with the salt content of water strange, itself. Why do I care so badly that the water's not fresh, anyways; I should just finish up why I came here in the first place and head back to the others.

But... there's something _not right_ – and not wrong, either – with this oddity. As if there was some kind of puzzle set here, waiting for someone to solve it for those who can see it. As if it's calling for me to find it...

I change my path from around the edge to straight towards where I first got in, stopping over the center of the pond. Looking straight down into it, the light doesn't really reveal anything other than the glint of more plant life- and the occasional fish, now that I look closer. Taking a deep breath, I dunk myself under the water.

Underneath the surface, I look around in the water; watching the last light of dusk shine through in rays of orange-gold light. Every now and then, the light shines on the plant life or marine life, glinting off more colors that reflect every which way. I almost go to pull my head back up from my observation, seeing nothing other than a sight that looks nice enough.

Almost.

A single ray of golden light gets cast down, shining past the plant life and hitting something with a pale brown color. I would've seem more, but the light gets blocked by another passing vegetation. Keeping my breath held for a while longer, I go swim down further, heading towards the strange coloration. When I get close enough, I have to bat some of the green stuff out of the way in order to properly look around.

As I push out of the way yet another piece of green in front of me, my hand come into contact with something hard and not too smooth, yet not too rough. I stop for a second, reaching my hand around to wipe away the last of the stuff before I get a good view of what I was looking for-

To find a piece of driftwood.

...Really? That's it? All of that, just for a worn out piece of wood? Well, at least it looks neat; the porous lines across it is pretty neat, and the fact that driftwood is in the middle of a _pond_ , of all places, is cool-

When I reach out and grab it to pull it out, there's a sudden release of pressure coming from the wood. I'm pushed backwards, whipping around in the water as I hold on for dear life while the weathered stick does something supernatural-

It starts lifting out of the water, slowly, and the stick slowly reveals itself to be _much_ longer, at least six feet in length. When the final inch comes out of it, it seems to finally let up on the pressure-

I let out a yell as it rockets upwards, saltwater coating the inside of my mouth as I burst through the surface of the pond in an explosion of water. The fucking piece of _wood_ turned missile is pouring a _torrent_ of saltwater out of it, myself hang on as it rockets wildly around the surface of the pond while I yell my head off-

Only for it to finally slow to a stop, my body plowing back into the with a shower of water.

What. The actual.

 _Fuuuuuuuck._

I slowly float up to the surface, the amount of salt water making it easy to just lay there on the top. The damn stick is still in my grasp, just _mocking me_ with its freaky magical show- it _has_ to be magical, because that was some Harry Potter shit, right there-

Distantly, through the water _drilled_ into my ears, I hear something coming from off to my side. I look over to see both Flora and Keith running up to the side of the pond, looking to be shouting.

And then they see me. Floating on the surface of the pond. I give a forlorn look to my clothes next to them, taunting me as a single thought goes through my mind.

 _Why me?_

* * *

We're sitting in some sort of circle; the other two – Euchre, I think, and Keith – are sitting to moth of my sides, making some sort of off-center triangle. Both me and Euchre have a small cup of tea – courtesy of the same wolf – while Keith looks to be drinking more ale, as if the drink will help out the headache he has after I explained my situation.

After the basitin and tiger showed up – and the resulting awkwardness from finding me floating on the pond in the buff with a piece of driftwood in hand – I got dressed – mostly, the horns would've torn my shirt open, so I stuck with the wrappings – and we walked back to camp.

Where I told them what happened, tossing the infernal piece of wood in the center of the camp and sitting a good distance away from it. At some point, Euchre must've overheard while drinking some tea of his own before taking out a cup and pouring some for me. As per usual, Keith denied. Flora said that she needed some time to think, and she went back to the pond to do so.

Currently, Euchre is crouched over the object, combing over it with a critical eye.

"Do you know anything about, well," I nod my head towards the staff. "I'm going to assume that it's magical; I've never seen anything like _that_ , before."

If it wasn't for the tea, I would still have the taste of salt in my mouth.

"Well, I will be honest with you," He stands up with the staff, giving it an intriguing look. "Whatever enchantments placed on this staff are cleverly hidden. But, what you said does hold some merit; the smell of seawater is strong, coming from this." He walks over to me and _whoa he's tall_ \- "I believe that it's a sign, of sorts, that you should hold onto it. While I don't know everything, I have a feeling it could help in your travels." And he smiles, placing the staff at my feet.

I give him a wary look, then decide to take a closer inspection of the staff. The whole thing it quite tall, as I've seen it before, but it isn't as straight as I thought it would be. Well, it _is_ driftwood; seeing a normal piece of it that's straight is rare. The rounded-off bottom of it is mostly normal, then seems to twist and curve slight as it goes upwards, having a bow-like curve at the last two feet at the top. The whole this is porous, with little divots and intrusions covering the whole thing from end to end.

"Why were you there..." I mumble to myself, setting down the tea next to me. I see Euchre out of the corner of my eye walk off, while Keith finishes his drink.

"I'll go check the perimeter, again," He says to me, placing the mug inside his tent before walking off into the woods- slightly off from where Euchre went.

Leaving me with the staff.

I give it another scrutinizing look. I watched Euchre pick it up, but nothing crazy happened to it while he was looking it over...

I reach out and give it a prod with my finger. Nothing.

I slowly wrap my hand around the bottom of the bow curve-

"Dawn?"

I flinch back from the staff and look up, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of Trace. I grab the staff – thankfully nothing happens – and I get to my feet, getting a feel for it as I look over at Trace. "Damn, don't scare me like that; this thing might be dangerous."

"Might?" His gaze goes from above my head – _damn horns_ – to the staff, a wary look in his eyes. Now that I can get a closer look at him, he looks pale- his tan is barely visible, with the only thing marring him being some bandages around his left arm, looking to be freshly changed.

"Speaking of dangerous things..." I saunter up to him, staff in hand. "Heard that something went wrong- I don't know what happened, but it has something to do with _you_."

I poke him in the shoulder with the driftwood, _hard_.

"Whatever you did to Flora, I suggest you apologize. _Now._ " With the new husky tone to my voice, I practically _growl_ the words out. The fearful look on Trace's face makes me believe it works well.

"W-where is Flora, a-anyways." He looks around the camp, wordlessly pointing out the lack of people in it.

I put on a sharp grin, slinging my free arm over his shoulder.

"Allow me to point you in the right direction, _friend_." I half guide him, half shove him in the direction of the pond, practically _smelling_ the fear coming off of him.

It's a quiet, tense minute of me directing Trace through the woods, where he doesn't dare say a word and the smile still plastered onto my face. If I've known that helping out Flora would be this fun – hell, doing this for people in the past – then I would've been a _much_ happier person. Before long, we reach near the edge of the pond; the distant glow of fireflies visible as it reflects off the surface of the water.

I lower my voice as I lean over to Trace. "Alright, here we are; she said that she would be here to think, last I saw her." I give him a slap on the shoulder as I turn around and start walking back. "Go get 'em, tiger."

I glance over my shoulder to see him giving me a strange look, before he shrugs and start walking the rest of the way to the pond, his shoulders tensing up. Going my how he's acting, he must've regretted whatever happened back at the city. I might not know what happened, yet, but I know someone who wants to make amends when I see them.

It's a bit of a surprise – _I almost flip out again; I've had enough of those, today_ – when I practically collide into Keith. I almost fall backwards, but the basitin reaches out and loops an arm around my back, pulling me back up to him.

It takes a second for me to realize that Keith said something, my heart practically hammering in my chest with how many times something went sideways. "What?"

"What are you doing out here?" He gives me another look, like he _wants_ to be impatient, but is holding it back. Well, I only woke up a couple of hours ago, and I've had a existential crisis, a face change, having to deal with a certain nudist tiger, getting propelled by a freaking _magic stick_ -

"Trace," I say, trying to stop my thoughts. "I led Trace over to Flora to make him apologize to her. Just felt like leaving them alone while they do it."

He gives me a weird look. "Apologizing? But isn't the keidran..." His eyes widen-

And he _fucking drops me_ – only now realizing how close I was to him _ho boy_ – as he stalks off in the direction of the pond. I get up as fast as I can and almost have to run to catch up to him.

I whisper-shout to him. "Keith, what the _hell_?!" He didn't look like he heard me as he keeps marching. I keep trying to get his attention, but nothing seems to-

I almost run into his back, but I manage to stop myself in time. He just... suddenly stopped, and as I look at his face, it's... _horrified_?

" _What are they doing?!_ " He breathes out. I follow his gaze, looking out and seeing the pond-

…

" _Oh._ " I breathe out, feeling my blood rush to my face.

Yeah, that's Trace and Flora. Both of them. Doing...

And then I watch Flora take a couple of steps forward, Trace with a comb in his hand and _his pants on thank god_. I feel a sense of relief flush over me, a hand going over my face to rub it's temples.

"Alright, we need to get out of here, right the hell now!" I quietly shout to Keith, but his gaze is still mortified, staring at the two lovebirds in the pond-

And Flora just tackled Trace, currently making out _heavily_. It takes a second before Trace joins in and _okay, we need to go_.

"This..." Keith breathes out. "This is just _not_ _right_!"

I look over to him, my eyes wide. " _Keith!_ The hell is the matter with you?"

He looks over to me, pointing at the pair. "What's wrong is- is _that_." He turns around. "I have to stop this-"

I step in front of him, shoving his chest. He barely moves, but the shocked look on his face looks to stop him. "No, you're _not_."

" _Dawn_ , what they're doing goes against everything that the races know-" I raise my voice, cutting him off.

"So _what_? They're not doing anything wrong." I jab him in the chest with the staff. "You know what- I'm tired of your shit, Keith! The hell is the matter with you?"

He hesitates for a second, but answers. "What's the matter is that whatever they're doing is wrong-"

"No, don't give me that _bullshit_ about what would other people think." I give him a harsh glare, feeling a growl _begging_ to be let out. "What problem do _you_ have with _them_?"

Keith _sneers_ , his face curling into something ugly. "People like you are _so naive_ ; can't see others for who they really are."

That growl that I was pushing down suddenly bursts forward, and in that torrent he set in me – _agitated; it's always been there_ – I didn't think; just spoke.

" _Well it's monsters like you who killed my little brother!_ "

* * *

" _Well it's monsters like you who killed my little brother!_ "

Whatever wind that was in my sails were gone, the rage etched into my face falling straight into shocked. Her face doesn't take long for horror overcomes her expression.

And then a torrent of water explodes from that staff of hers, surging forth and slamming into me. I feel the air get hit out of me as it shoves me backwards, sailing through the air and slamming into the ground. The water – _seawater?_ – forces me to stay down for a second, drenching me and chilling me to the bone.

It takes me a second to collect myself – because _whoa_ , it's been a while since something hit me _that_ hard (except Trace) – while I sputter out some salty water onto the ground next to me. I guess I should be thankful that I wasn't thrown into a tree, or else I would have to worry about whether I broke my back or not. I finally stop sputtering long enough to wipe my wet hair out of my eyes and look for Dawn.

But she's already gone. Looking around for her – ears rotating, for good measure – she must've ran when the water first struck, or soon after, because there is no sign of her.

 _'-it's monsters like you who killed my little brother!'_

I remember Dawn mentioning a brother, when we first met. She never went into detail – she never spoke of him _since_ – and it just slipped my mind. What about her brother that makes him so different? Dawn said it, herself; only humans come from where she lived.

' _-monsters like you who killed my-_ '

She did mention other humans. She also mentioned offhandedly that those different ones used to be slaves, in her home's history- but that's history; the _past_. Besides, why would humans stay bitter when there's bigger problems-

But there are no other species besides _humans_ -

"What _happened_ ; we heard shouting and-" I look over to see Trace and Flor- the tiger running up to where I was, then stop as they look down the soaked path that Dawn made, with me at the end. "I'll say this again; what _happened_ , Keith?"

"..." I get to my feet, swaying slightly from the reeling impact of the water burst. "It's nothing."

I walk away, my thoughts away from the two who are giving me dubious looks and their activities and on a certain human; whether I wanted to or not.

' _-monsters like you-_ '

' _Monsters'?_ _I'm not a monster._

I try to ignore how much I don't believe my own thoughts.

* * *

Tomorrow morning was painfully quiet.

The upside is that Flora and Trace made up, and look to be openly showing each other their affection. Seeing the fearful looks that Trace throws my way every now and then definitely makes it look like he's trying to make up... whatever he did. I never got told what it was that he did, but seeing how he ended up more hurt than Flora and they're looking fine this morning...

Yeah. That, and the talk that I saw Euchre give him looked to set him straight, if his face is anything to go by.

The downside... I had an outburst, and just left Keith in the woods with nothing but the bombshell I dropped on him – both verbally and literally – and it's just so... _quiet_. The only time that either of us speaks is when the other three address us, and Keith is putting up a decent effort to stay away from me.

I'm not exactly innocent, either, for that matter; I'm avoiding _him_ like the plague. I can feel the looks that the others are giving us, but they hadn't said anything, themselves. If anything, the fact that Trace and Flora are so enamored with each other definitely makes things easier to avoid.

The comment of "Did you two bang under the moonlight?" followed by a cheshire grin made sure of that. That, and the two of them are diabetes-inducing with how sweet they are with each other.

At some point, after avoiding the fourth attempt to break the silence between me and Keith failed – courtesy of the local tiger – Euchre decided to pull me in for a talk after Flora had hers.

"Need something?" I don't look up from my final bits of packing, but the silence that greets me forces me to look up. "What?"

"There; now was that so hard?" The canine smirk he gives me makes me do an eye roll.

"Okay, _Dad_ , now seriously; do you need something? Gonna give me relationship advice, like with the two lovebirds?" I feel a small bit of satisfaction at the sheepish look on his face.

"I thought I was being discreet, I apologize for the miscommunication. Although," He glances off to the side, and I follow his gaze to watch Keith walk into the woods. "I have been told by Flora that you and the basitin are having a quarrel, am I right?"

I frowned. "I'll deal with him later. Now, the real reason you came here; or did you just waltz on over here to judge me?"

"Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me," He gave me another critical gaze, seeming to comb over my feature; specifically the horns. "I believe that I didn't finish my explanation of what happened to you; or at least, what _might have_ happened to you."

I tilt my head, deciding to stand up for this. "Alright, then what's the prognosis, doc? Do I only have three days to live?"

He let out a light laugh. "No, nothing like that. But I will say this," He leans down slightly, a glint in his eyes. "The circumstances surrounding you is strange, to say the least. I've heard of how Adrakists come about; unless there was a dragon within eye shot, or someone with a mana crystal – infused with the likelihood of dragons – and performed by a ritual that lasts a full day..." He gives me a sympathetic look. "As I said; strange. However,"

He looks around again, as if checking to see if there are any eavesdroppers-

And then he grips my shoulders, pulling his mouth closer to my ear. " _The answers you seek are in the past, daughter of the pale sun._ "

And then he's walking off, waving. "I bid you farewell, Ms. Underwood."

...Um, what the _fuck_ was that about? ' _Daughter of the pale sun_ '? You know what- this, the weird shit going on with the driftwood thingy, the issue with Keith, I'm about to _here_ with bullshit, and I haven't even addressed my issue with my extended stay in wonderland!

For once, I _really_ wish I had a stiff drink, even if it tastes terrible.

Not long after he spoke to me, he said his farewells to everyone, vaguely mentioning some 'personal business' that he has to attend to. While Flora looks to be sad at his swift exit, the other two seemed relieved to be gone of him. While I feel bad about it, I consciously feel myself weigh towards the guy's opinions; something isn't right with that guy.

Then _literally nothing else happened_ for the rest of the day.

And the next day. The one after that? Nothing! I constantly hear Trace and Keith bicker over which way is which, and how to navigate ourselves through the woods to reach the next town. After three days since Euchre's departure, I could feel myself slowly grating my nerves with the tension between me and Keith, the looks from the other half of the group drilling into us.

And it was the night of the fourth day, where I actually took the time to examine what went wrong.

The loud, impulsive part of me is practically shouting at the top of it's lungs that it was all Keith's fault. But, after four days of constantly feeling on edge, that voice is starting to feel sore. And it was then, when the more reasonable part of me started to _think_ , instead of jump along with my headstrong self to make matters worse.

I know that Keith had been rude – _among other choice words_ – but to discount that whatever I did was right? No, I shouldn't have brought my past into this, I _know_ this. It's just that me and Keith have a tendency to fight with each other just as easily as it is to crack a joke with him. Or pretend to be indignant to see him _not_ look like he's an empty shell of sorts. Or-

Okay, besides the whole racist-speciest-whatever problem he has, he's a pretty cool guy to hang out with. But that the _problem_.

I don't know what makes him so... bitter, about keidrans. He acts like one murdered his entire family, for crying out loud!

Well, it's about time that I killed two birds with one stone.

We made camp on the fourth night of aimless walking, and the couple decided to turn in early. Yeah, they're still sweet as ever, and yes, I'm silently cooing over how adorable they are; I mean really-

Back on track, Dawn. I fiddle with the tear I made in my shirt, so that the new additions to my skull can fit through. Other than exposing my non-existent cleavage, there isn't a problem with it. The campfire is dying down slightly, casting Keith and I in a dark orange glow. I spend a few minutes, waiting for my pride to stop telling me that this could go oh so horribly wrong.

"Keith," He jumps, as if he wasn't expecting me to speak. I get the overwhelming urge to crack a joke; to tease him or otherwise derail what I plan on doing. I shove it down with a thick swallow, alongside my nervousness, and continue. "We need to talk."

He just stares at me, for a solid minute. His eyes seem to be searching for something, and I almost just dropped the whole thing right then and there.

But he nods, so we both stand up and walk a good distance away from the other two; even if they are most likely asleep. After a good distance away, I stop walking; Keith stopping a bit behind me. I take in a deep breath.

This is it, Dawn. I breath in and-

"I'm sorry."

My head never turned around so quickly, looking back at an equally shocked basitin. Slowly, a grin overtakes my face as a smirk goes over his. Soon, we start to chuckle, then laugh, then we're holding onto each other and the trees to make sure that we can actually stay standing up.

We both said the same phrase, at the same time. The only reason that we're laughing so hard was because it was so damn _relieving_ , more than it was comedic. After a while, the laughter died down, but we stay like that; me smiling like an escaped mental ward patient and Keith looking like a weight has been lifted, if only slightly.

(I found that I liked seeing him not weighed down by his troubles, but it took a while for me to figure that out.)

"Well," Keith started.

"Careful; that's a deep subject." The look that Keith sent me – that ' _really_ ' look – was almost enough to send me into another laughing fit, but I restrain myself and just let out a wheeze.

"That's a terrible pun. But seriously," He took a breath of his own, and only now do I realize how much he was about to laugh himself, at the pun. "Why are you apologizing?"

It was my turn to give _him_ the look. "I thought it was obvious. It mostly my fault, really..." I kick the grass below us, trying to find my words. Before I could find them, however, Keith interrupts.

"No, it wasn't," He sighs. "It was mine; I let my past mess with my opinions, and I made a mistake saying those things," Keith look like he's about to continue, but I interrupt.

"But that's the issue, Keith!" I stop myself, taking in a breath to stop the urge to shout. "I did the exact. Same. Thing. I was being capricious and inconsiderate; I don't even know the reason you were being the way you are!"

Keith looked to continue to argue, but then stopped for a second. "We're both arguing over the same thing."

That made me stop for a second and think back on what was said. He's saying that he shouldn't let his past ordeals mess with the now, while I'm saying that I shouldn't go all gun-ho without fact-checking-

Oh. Yeah, he's right.

"Well," I clasp my hands together lightly. "There is an easy way to fix this, but it all depends on how much you feel like talking."

Naturally, he looked chary of my statement, but less so currently. "What are you suggesting, Dawn?"

"Alright, how about I suggest we set the ground rules first, before we get into this," I hold out my hands as I start listing them. "The big thing here is that we can only ask one thing at a time. You don't have to answer, if you feel like it, but the other big thing is that we have to be honest with each other. Now that I said that..."

I place a hand on Keith's shoulder. "I promise to be truthful; I swear on my mother's grave."

He gives me an odd look at the promise, a mixture of surprise and something that I can't quite place. After a few moments of his shocked silence, he speaks.

"I swear on my mother's grave... that I will be honest to you." Now it's _my_ turn to be shocked.

A thought goes back to my earlier musings of a keidran killing his family, but I shove it down and force myself to speak. "Well, alright; how about we get started with something simple," I hold up a hand, three fingers splayed out. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"...Really?" He deadpans, but at the serious look I keep up he sighs. "Alright; you're holding up three fingers. So," He takes a second, taking a look over me before landing on my eyes. "What were the color of your eyes, before they changed?"

"Dark brown," I give him a small smile. "See; easy. Now for something I don't know; how old are you?"

"Nineteen," He answers easily.

"Wait, _nineteen_? And you've been traveling for how long?"

He pulls up a small smirk. "You can only ask one question at a time; your rules."

Damn it, he's right. _Well_ , I could always change them; I did place them... No, I'll just suffer through it. "Alright, wisecrack. Ask away."

"What's your full name? Never did get the whole of it."

"Dawn Elaine Underwood." I give him a look. "Mind if I ask the same?"

He nods. "Keith Keiser."

"What, no middle name?" At his odd look, I continue. "Back where I'm from, it's common to have a name between your given name and your surname. But really, it's just a way for parents to let their kids know that their in a helluva lot of trouble, if you ask me."

He shrugs. "I thought that was a human nobility tradition..." He squints his eyes at me. "You're not a runaway noblewoman, are you?"

"Nope, no nobility running through me, as far as I know; both of my biological parents were orphans." I give him a sly look. " _And_ I'll be nice and not count that question."

I laugh at the bug eyed look on his face, and he slugs me in the arm for it. I take the hit with pride.

"Alright, smartass," He crosses his arms. "Then where are you _really_ from, then?"

I take a second to think. "When we first met, I wasn't lying about where I was from. Although calling myself a 'foreigner' would be letting out a few crucial details- okay, a _lot_ of crucial details, stop giving me that look!" Keith stops with the chastising look.

I take in a deep breath. "I'll say this outright, before I get going; I was being honest when I said that I have no clue how I ended up in Mekkan. I was on an errand before heading home then..." I half-assed a flair with my hands. "Suddenly I'm in the middle of a forest, miles away from the nearest village."

He gives me a curious look after a minute of processing my answer. "Do you think you came from some unknown land across the ocean? A feat of magic could've brought you here."

"Yeah, I was thinking that for a while, but that _can't_ be it. I'm sure you noticed, but people _know_ me, as if I've already been here, before- _raised_ with them. The closest thing I got as to _why_ is parallel dimensions and other sci-fi bullshit."

"'Parallel dimensions'?"

"Yeah, imagine a world that's almost identical to this one, but is different in either small or large ways. Like how they're only humans, back home, and there are still humans walking around here."

"Huh," Then something seemed to click with him. "Wait, does that mean you came from _another world_ , entirely?!"

I shrug. "Maybe. Now riddle me this, fuzzball; why are you parading yourself around here and not back home," I give him a look when he tried to argue. "I know that something's up; why would a foreign country send a _kid_ to do something as important as bringing back a man who – apparently – had a lot of political power when they could just send a professional team of ambassadors?"

It's quiet. As the gears turn in Keith's head, the only noise to accompany the silence is the sounds of the forest at night.

After a minute of waiting, he talks brusquely. "I'm banished from my home. I'm not allowed to return unless I have Grand Templar Trace Legacy come with me back to the Basitin Isles."

Oh.

I feel like there's going to be a lot of 'oh' moments, concerning Keith. Before I could comment on that, however, he starts asking his question.

"What happened to your brother?"

I froze, my heart close to stopping.

* * *

 **A/N: And that there, ladies and gentlemen, is my longest chapter to date.**

 **I sort of ended up typing up the beginning and middle for a bit, and I ended up extending it past my expectations to the point where I actually couldn't fit in what I wanted to talk about.**

 **Hence the cliffhanger.**

 **Normally, I would move onto review responses, but none came along for the last chapter. While I should expect something like this to happen, seeing my fav/follow count is where it's at, but every bit of criticism helps.**

 **Another thing that I decided to look into** **, that's pretty interesting; the size of Mekkan. I've looked at maps to see if there is a legend that shows distance, but I saw none. And so I've looked for a way to help me show how large the land Twokinds takes place on, and I've run into an interesting hint:**

 **Trace talks about how Saria (the illusion one) says that from where the real Saria died to the port where the team meets Eric, is** _ **fifteen miles**_ **.**

 **Now, I know that the maps that Tom has lying around are most likely outdated, but going off of the information above and using that as a way to determine how wide Mekkan is, the estimate comes to:**

 **~180 to ~200 miles (or ~290 to 320 kilometers)! I had to leave room for error, because I'm no professional. I haven't even determined how the geography of Mekkan would work, based on climate and all that. But then I noticed something about the size, if my estimations is to be believed.**

 _ **Mekkan is literally smaller than the state of Georgia, in the United States!**_ **That shit's crazy!**

 **Anyways, that's all I have for now, so go ahead and have a good one!**


	7. Behind the Veil: Where's Dawn

**A/N: So, deciding to take a break from making the main chapters and not really having any urges to do the other story of mine, I decided to something a little different. The next chapter is mostly done, so for those of you who have been waiting, hold on just a little while longer.**

 **Now, this interlude is a look at life back at the good ole town of Greenville, and the impact that comes from a certain young woman suddenly disappearing. Hope you enjoy the new perspective!**

 **EDIT (12/16/2018) Decided to add in a few new things _which are very, very important._ When I say a few new things, I mean nothing's changed other than the new blurb at the end. As for the new chapter... soon, my friends. **

**Disclaimer:** _ **I don't own Twokinds, otherwise I wouldn't be writing fan fiction now would I? Also, beware the Twilight Zone reference. ;)**_

Line Break

"How're you holdin' up, Geoffrey?"

Isn't _that_ the question of the month. I almost didn't register it at first, but as I look up and see that Hamilton had walked into my office the words hit me across the face.

"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two are wrong." I grouch out, wishing that the aspirin I took a few minutes ago would kick in faster. I didn't sleep well at _all_ for the past few nights, and Destiny isn't doing much better for that matter.

I can't look for her – _my little sunshine_ – if I'm too tired to do it in the first place, but not being able to find you own _daughter_ for a week straight in a town this small... I put my hands up to my temples and start rubbing them. I need to slow down, or I'm going to pass out.

"Look, Sheriff- _Geoff_ ," He drags one of the two chairs in front of my desk – there for whenever I need to talk to someone for cases or to coworkers – and drags it over to the side of my desk, sitting down and resting an arm on the cluttered wooden desk. "I know that what happened to your daughter is hard on you, but if you keep at it like this you're going to worry everybody." Hamilton echoes my thoughts- is it really that obvious?

I let out a sigh. "I know..." I stop rubbing my temples- about time the aspirin started working.

He just gives me a look. "Geoff, you have to realize that, maybe, Dawn just decided to leave town-"

"And just leave everything she owns behind?" I couldn't help but give him a hard look, my brows furrowed in anger. "I _know_ my own daughter, Hamilton, and what I _know_ is that she doesn't do things like this- for Christ's sake, she disappeared right after she left work!"

A breaking of glass breaks the haze that fell over me – _since when did I stand up_ – and I look over to see the glass of a picture frame knocked over- most likely from the fists that I had slammed onto the desk. There isn't any broken glass on the floor, but the glass covering has cracks going all over it- the Underwood family photo I keep on my desk.

"Ah _shit_..." I bend down and pick it up, gently placing it back on the desk. Or, at least I tried to- my hands are shaking from how irrational I was being, and the picture almost falls off again. I glance over to Hamilton to see him giving me a knowing look. "Okay... _maybe_ you have a point."

"Mhmm," He bends over while in his chair and picks up the few scattered papers that fell off. "Damn right, I am." When he places the papers back on my desk, he drops the smug look and adopts a sincere one. "Look, how 'bout you take the day off and get some actual rest- Lord knows you need it."

I hesitate for a minute, then decide that I need a while to think about it. I swivel around in my chair – _swivel chairs are awesome, period_ – and look outside the window behind me. It's raining outside, and the overcast paints a gloomy gray over everything that's normally colorful about fall. Because of the rain on the window, I take the time to notice my reflection- and I almost recoil as I take it in.

My dark brown hair – normally combed professionally sleek – is a mess, there's dark circles under my hazel eyes, and the five o'clock shadow is starting to grow out. I look like a _mess_ \- hell, at least Destiny has the decency to clean herself up in the morning, even after all of this happened...

"Fine," I stand up from my chair and start walking out, grabbing my police-issued coat while I'm at it. Hamilton follows suit, minus the coat. "I'll take the day off."

"Whoa, that's a first," As soon as I walked outside, Liam is standing right there- leaning against the wall outside my office. He's such a snoop, I swear. "Never heard you say those words in... well, _ever_."

Liam, in contrast to Hamilton, is one of the newer officers. He's been here for almost two years now, but he has a tendency to be a _huge_ gossip- which is only made worse by that sharp mind of his. Hamilton, on the other hand, has been on almost as long as I have been, and we've been buds for a while- even before the force, being the best man at both of my weddings.

 _Yeah..._

"Well, glad to make your day, but get back to work," I give him a faux-stern look. "Last I checked, you still have to get a report to me by this evening, and you're noticeably _not_ doing it."

"Oh- okay," He throws his hands up jokingly in surrender. "No need to pull out the big guns... _oh no_ , not again!" He suddenly groans out, and I follow his gaze to-

"Henrietta?" I say, surprised. The aged woman is considered to be one of the town crazies, but from what I've seen of her she's just... skittish. She's clean, as far as being under the influence goes, but she has a tendency to, well...

Liam looks over to me, an annoyed look on his face. "Yeah, she's been coming in here for a while now, saying that there were _aliens_ \- can you believe that shit?"

Oh, and that Henrietta is a bit of an eccentric, in that regard; last year, she said that ghosts were stealing her morning newspaper, when it was just kids taking them before she could. Henrietta looked up at us- no, at _Liam_ – _guessed she heard him, serves him right_ – and by the scowl on her face she's about to scold him for saying that-

And then her eyes lock onto mine, and then the scowl turns into... an eager expression?

"Oh, Sheriff," The slightly croaking voice – one that says she used to smoke often in her youth - croons out. "I've been meaning to see you, but _this one_ ," She jabs a wrinkly finger in Liam's direction. "Has been forcing me out."

At those words I look over to Liam, a brow raised. "Is that so..." My voice – now dangerously low – locks up Liam. "Well, I have to apologize Miss, but I'm on my way out. Officer Jackson here, however," I slap a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "Is completely willing to help, if you need it. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"I saw Dawn, on that night."

I stop in my step, my feet frozen to the floor. Slowly, I turn back to look at the old woman, and – for once in a long time, if it ever happened – she's eerily calm. Confident. I slowly walk up to her, and her face doesn't falter one bit as I stand less than a foot away from her.

"What did you say?" The tone I use is icy, cold, and it makes the situation all the more surreal that Henrietta doesn't budge an inch.

"I saw her, on the night she went missing," She leans in closer to me to whisper conspiratorially. "And I can tell you were I saw her last."

I can hear Liam complaining about the credibility of her statement, but the only thing that I can focus on is the sheer _seriousness_ of her statement, how her eyes seem to drill into mine.

"Smith!" I bark off to Liam, and he instantly shuts up and stands at attention. "Get me the keys to the truck. _Now!_ " At the added shout, he runs off with a 'Yes, sir!' and a slightly fearful look. Good. I look over to Hamilton, but he's already pacing back to us with a coat halfway on. Nice to know that he always has my back.

This the first – possibly real – lead on finding my baby girl, and _nothing_ is going to stop me on following up on it.

Dad's on a rampage.

We set out to where Henrietta told us were to go – the local grocer, of all places – and all throughout the drive there I have to tell myself to slow down, or risk throwing the vehicle off the side of the road. By the looks Hamilton is giving me, it still must be fast. Soon – _yeah, I guess I was going fast, whoops_ – we reach the grocery store; the one we were told about. I park the truck out front of the grocery store, quickly turning off the truck and jumping out of the vehicle.

As I do that, I take the time to look around the small parking lot and out onto the road. There's only one other car here – probably the owner's – and the road has only one other building across from the grocer- from what I remember, it's an old butcher's shop. Place has been abandoned for years, and nobody had either bought the building or scheduled it for demolition. Other than that, through all of the rain pouring down around me, I don't see anything out of the ordinary. I look up in front of the small grocery store, and my eyes land on one object in particular.

A security camera, slowly panning across the lot- and hopefully the road.

"Well, we're here," Hamilton closes the door, and takes a look around us. "Doesn't look like anything much happened..." Just like a few minutes ago, he echoes my thoughts.

I point to the camera. "They got a camera, at least. If what Henrietta said is right, then it might've seen-"

I catch a flash of something out of the corner of my eye, and looking to my right – across the road – I see a loose board swinging loosely from one nail, recently disturbed. There wasn't supposed to be any strong winds today, just a large rain shower and nothing else...

"Actually, you go ahead and check the feed." I say, sounding distracted.

"Wait, why do you-" He stops as I try to subtly nod my head towards the abandoned butcher's place – which is fairly large, for some reason – and nods his head. "I'll see what I can find. Be careful, now."

We go our separate ways, Hamilton into the store and me walking through the rain to the building across the street. As I walk over to it, I take another long look at it. It definitely looks ramshackle; there's a couple of windows broken in, one of the glass panes from the front door is missing entirely, and I can see the handful of graffiti tagging the walls. From the outside, it doesn't look like anyone is there...

Heading over to the front double doors, I try to look into the glass, but it's too dusty to look into. I reach into my utility belt and grab a flashlight, crouching down and clicking it on to look through the missing glass pane on the bottom right.

Inside, there's a lot of dust coating the place from disuse. I can see the counter from here, barren and covered in a thin layer of dust. There are a few shelves, here and there, but ultimately there isn't anything of note-

And then I look down, pointing the flashlight to the spot I'm looking at, and see shoe prints. Smaller than average, looks like sneakers of some sort- maybe some juvenile trespassers? I crawl through the hole made from the empty glass pane in the left door, having to push to get through the small-ish opening. Standing up, I look around and notice the evidence of someone being here.

I sigh. "Alright, you know the drill- you kids know that you're not supposed to be trespassing here; c'mon, out you go..."

At first, I thought I was just talking to myself in the middle of an abandoned meat shop, but I hear some whispers- arguing whispers, but the rain drowns out what they are. And, slowly, I see a kid that looks somewhere around twelve-thirteen walk out from behind one of the shelves. Another one, around the same age, peeps up from behind the counter. The first one looks to be Hispanic, while the other one looks White.

"Alright boys, I'm only going to give you a warning; trespassing _is_ an arrestable offense, but I'm on important business currently. So-" I shine the light on both of them, then spot a basketball off in the corner. "Why do you have that in here."

Both of them share a look, the Hispanic one talking first. "Don't say anything, Joey-"

"But why _not_ , it's cool, Jose!" 'Joey' almost whines at 'Jose', flapping his arms for good measure.

"Because it _weird_ , and it might not even work- he could throw us in the crazy house! Do you want that?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, _slow down_ ," Both of them look back at me – as if they forgot I was here – and Jose looks to pale slightly. "What's so 'cool' that involves a basketball? Did you break something."

"No!" "Yes!"

Both look at each other, a glare in both of their eyes. I let out a sigh- great, a headache _and_ some arguing children. "Look, you two," I shine the light down onto the floor instead on in them, crouching down onto their level. "Whatever is going on, I need to know; it's my job. If you show me what this thing you guys are talking about, I just leave you off with a warning and let you go. Sounds alright with you?"

It's silent for a bit, where both of them look between each other- Jose with a look of 'don't do it' and Joey with 'I _have_ to'.

Then, without talking, Joey looks back to me and nods, walks over to pick up the basketball, and... starts waving his free arm around in the air? He takes the time to walk around the store, almost like he's feeling for something he can't see, and I almost speak up to ask what he's doing when he stops.

"Here..." He mutters, taking a step backwards and extends the hand with the basketball, then looks at me as he moves his hand to the side to drop it.

…

 _But it doesn't._

My jaw drops, eyes wide as I stare at the impossibility in front of me. Slowly, I walk up to it, reaching out a hand to poke it. When my hand touches it, it's almost as if there's no gravity to it as it _floats_ backwards, away from the offending finger I used.

"What the..." I look back at the kid, almost silently asking him what's going on.

Joey looks to be fairly perceptive, answering my silent question. "We usually come here whenever we can on weekends, and we've been doing this for a while now, but..." He walks over to the ball and plucks it from the air. "This is new. It's been happening for around a week, now."

"How did you do that?"

Jose decides to speak up. "It's now us, we swear! It's something else," He walks over and waves his arms, like Joey. "You can kinda feel it out, when your arms start feeling loose. It's kinda like those low-gravity airplanes that you see on the internet- where people kinda float there and stuff because they're falling."

"But we're not falling..." I mutter out and, with my curiosity getting the better of me, I start waving my arms around, too. Around where the ball was floating, I stop, feeling my arm seeming to... loosen, lighten itself. Looking at it, I see my coat start to drift around my stiffened arm, moving with the occasional twitch it makes. " _That is some Twilight Zone stuff..._ "

"Really," I look over to Jose, who has an unimpressed look. "'Twilight Zone'?"

I frown. "Yeah, the classics are better than what they have today- it's all sci-fi and no true supernatural stuff- you know what, never mind." I put my arm down to my side, looking over the kids. "But seriously, you're trespassing; even if there is some weird, unnatural things going on, you need to leave. Now go," I jab a thumb back at the door, and the two let out a collective groan.

As we leave, with me taking up the rear so that they wouldn't sneak behind, if I stayed any longer I would've seen a strange yellow wisp of light quickly crack through the air like a whip, and then hear the shelf that was floating a couple of inches off the ground suddenly slam back down with the force of gravity.

Line break.

After I sent the kids off, I ran back through the rain, giving glances back to the building, thinking about the things I saw in there. It can't have been real- maybe the kids put some magnets somewhere and made it float? And a breeze could've shifted my coat, for all I know. The forecast could be wrong about the wind, and a draft just pushed my coat sleeve around. Not so cheap card tricks, but card tricks nonetheless.

Catching up with Hamilton, he managed to talk the store owner into letting us review the tapes from about a week ago, and from the look on Hamilton's face something isn't right.

When he sees me, he hails me over. "Did you find anything?"

I take a second to think about what I saw. If I told him, then he definitely would want me to use some more vacation days. Days that I could spend looking for Dawn. "Yeah, just some kids trespassing and playing magician. It's weird what they can do these days, you know?" I tap his arm as he leads me to some kind of camera room. "Find anything?"

"Well..." He gives me a look, but continues walking. "I found _something_ , but nothing that I can make sense of."

"What do you mean?"

"See for yourself," We walk into a back room, and there is a single TV, with a paused feed from sometime dark outside the store. "It's one of those old models, where it one frame every second- and the _quality_..." He doesn't need to say anymore; I can see how fuzzy it looks.

Hamilton presses a button, and the recording starts playing. I notice the date, and it was about a day before Dawn was reported missing. Looking at what was shown, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary until I see movement coming from somewhere across the road. Leaning in closer, I can see a vaguely person-shape as it looks both ways, then starts walking. As they get closer, I can see a street lamp light up their features-

And it's _her_ , wearing a sweater of some sort – the colors aren't there, probably the camera using some sort of night vision – and her face is barely visible through the quality-

And the next frame shows some sort of light blooming around her, faint but barely there, and then the next frame is just a blinding light. Then the next shows the scene that was there before Dawn walked up, an empty road and parking lot.

…The _hell_?

"See?" Hamilton stops and rewinds the footage, playing the scene where my daughter just _disappears_. "I thought it was just the camera suddenly not working for a second, from that light that showed up, but the time..."

I look at the time as the footage gets shown again, and yet again there's that bright light suddenly taking up an entire frame of it's own, then dying down again and the screen is left Dawn-less. But, just like how Hamilton pointed out, the time shows only three seconds passing by; the camera didn't break.

"This..." I flop my arms up helplessly. "This doesn't make any damn sense." I groan, putting my fingers back up my temples.

"Geoff," I feel Hamilton's hand on my shoulder. "Look, at least we know where she was last- and yes, I already checked with the store owner. He said that he was in the restroom at the time, and didn't notice anything different." Damn him and his ability to read me; he's almost as bad as Destiny. Almost.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur, where we talked to the owner for a copy of the footage for the case, then walk outside into the rain towards the truck. Halfway there, I stop Hamilton.

"Hey," I force the keys to the vehicle into his hand, which he takes with a raised brow. "I'm just gonna walk back, I feel like needing some fresh air."

He only gives me a sympathetic look. "Alright, take all the time you need," He says over his shoulder as he gets to the driver side of the truck. "Try not to have the animals get ya, alright?" He laughs, and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Hamilton drives off, and I'm left on the side of the road, in the pouring rain. The coat keeps it mostly off of me, but I know that Destiny would probably lecture me for doing this- being a doctor tends to make her worry about stuff like that. Speaking of people I love...

I walk over to the exact spot where Dawn suddenly disappeared, looking down both ways to make sure nobody is coming. Looking around, there doesn't seem to be anything different with the road, or anything on the side of it.

I let out a sigh and, not the first time during the week, I pull out a locket and shield it from the rain. It's pale gold in color, with an intricate design written on the oval pendant. I could never find out what they meant, but... but _she_ always said it was important, and said it would protect me. I rub a thumb over the smooth surface, feeling the inlays of the markings, then I open it up.

There are two pictures inside of it, one of a miniature portrait picture of Tera, and the other one a slightly more recent picture of Dawn. Feeling the rain flow down my face, I let the held back sadness flow forth, the tears mingling with the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Tera," I say in a harsh whisper. "I'm so, _so sorry_ I can't find her..."

I don't know how long I stood there in the middle of the road, but after a while I lock those emotions back up, close the locket, and start the walk back home. I might get there before Destiny does, hopefully before she finds me soaked to the bone-

Then my phone starts ringing.

I give the object in my pocket an odd look. It's the default ringtone, so it isn't anyone I closely know. I quickly stuff the locket back where it came from and pull out the phone. As I hunch over to keep the screen from getting wet, I can't help but raise a brow at the screen.

It's a private number.

I know I shouldn't answer it. The last time I had to deal with private numbers and all that was when I was much, _much_ younger, back when Tera was alive. But yet again, with Dawn missing like she is, and that weird gravity stuff back there...

…

I press on the screen, holding the phone up to my ear. "Who's this." It wasn't a question.

"If you stand out there any longer, you'll catch your death." A voice that's filled with false humor. Male, sounds to be getting on in his years. Familiar.

"You didn't answer me." I bluntly tell him.

"You already know me; unless you're getting on in your years worse than I am?" He's still keeping on that old, teasing quality to his voice that sounds _so familiar-_

I facepalm with my other hand, letting out a sharp sigh. "The hell are you calling me for, Nick? I quit a _long_ time ago, put that part of me behind for a reason. _"_

"And now that reason has gone missing?"

I growl into the phone. "You're treading on thin fucking ice, Nick-"

"Relax, Geoff, I didn't call you to open up your past." The teasing tone drops, showing the stone-faced seriousness I can almost see. "We noticed a minor disturbance in your area, and we didn't feel like calling you until we noticed that there might be a connection with it and your daughter."

I stop my pacing – which started to happen right around when I recognized the caller – and glanced back towards the old shop. "Those disturbances wouldn't happen to have caused gravity itself to go haywire, would it?"

It's quiet on the other end, which practically confirms it before he speaks again. "Among other, smaller things, yes. When did you-"

"I found a couple of kids playing no-grav basketball in an abandoned building right next to where Dawn disappeared. Which, by the way, isn't natural _at all_."

More silence, then, "Wasn't it raining, Geoff?"

 _What._ "Of course it is, I can see it... _oh shit_." I breathe out, looking around me.

The rain, while it's still pouring a bit further down the road, has decided to stop where I was. When I mean by stop, however, I mean it's as if _time froze_ the drops themselves around me. It's almost as if I was caught in a painting, of sorts.

I bring the phone – which had dropped to my side along with my arm – up to my head. "Please tell me you got something, because _the damn rain just stopped moving_."

"That's the main reason why I called," Nick says, voice somehow more serious than before. "Something big is coming, and we can't tell if it's going to be friendly or not. We need someone who's good at their job to stay nearby and keep an eye on it."

"Why not you; you got an eye on everything."

"Because we believe it's happening _everywhere_." Nick sighs. "Look, believe it or not, my men are spread _thin_ , and I can't spare any to your region. Since you left, there has been a lot of people who were turncoats, and we're still recovering from it."

Turncoats? The hell happened while I was retired... If an agency that big had a large portion of it gone rotten, then it must be recent if _Nick_ can't keep an eye everywhere.

" _You_ , on the other hand," Nick says. "You can keep your eyes out for what's going on, and since your a possible epicenter in the middle of nowhere, along with your skills-"

"Hold on," I cut in. "What makes you think I'm going to go back to that life? Tera and I left it when we realized it wasn't just _us_ we had to keep safe, and as much as everyone was good for keeping safe..." I scoff. "Look, it isn't worth it-"

"But Dawn is." He says, blunt as a wrecking ball. "And from what I can guess, her going missing has something to do with _my_ business. It's not a hundred percent fact, but-"

"It's close enough." I say, weariness dripping from my voice. "...Tera used to throw that at us all the time, and every damn time she was right. Right?"

"...Right. She was probably the best agent we ever had; better than both of us combined."

"Yeah..."

…

"What do I need to do, Nick?"

Welp.

 **A/N: Short, I know, but it's just a little filler until I finish up the next chapter. On the bright side,** _ **more Dawn backstory!**_ **Her father being a small town sheriff is both a cool thing and a more stressing thing (for Geoff). And who is this Nick fella, anyways?**

 **Well,** _ **I**_ **know. You just have to keep reading.**

 **Anyways, I'll do some review responding when the next chapter comes, so stay tuned, or something. Ciao!**

 **P.S.: Thought about the low-grav thing from that one scene from the second 'Thor' movie, where a bunch of kids were playing with huge metal crates like they weigh nothing more than a kitten. Gave the sci-fi part of me a good feeling.**

 **P.P.S.: Nothing like a dad-induced rampage, am I right?**

 **_Edit: For those of you who read this before 12/16/2018, make sure to re-read the last chunk of this chapter. If you're reading this after this date, or if you saw the edit up top, then you're good. Ciao. Again._**


	8. Impractical Problems and Feelings

**A/N: Months. It's been that long. Writer's Block can be a bitch, sometimes; I literally rewrote this entire chapter at** _ **least**_ **six times before it seemed right.**

 **And that was just the first portion. Funnily enough, the third chunk of this was scrapped from the first thing I threw out, after thinking about it. Eugh.**

 **Anyways, onto this chapter. And happy holidays, to those who celebrate them this time of year. I actually had a joke about turkeys at some point, before it took to long for it to be relevant. Ha.**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **This one does not own Twokinds.**_

* * *

 _"What happened to your brother?"_

Why did I seize up?

That seems to be the only thing running through my mind at the moment. It's been years, damnit, and I shouldn't be doing something like this. I... I thought I have moved on, put all of that behind me...

"I..." I worked my jaw, trying to spit out the words as best as I possibly could. Nothing.

I guess this is harder than I thought.

"Dawn?" Keith got rid of that earlier expression in favor of giving me a worried one, taking a step closer.

"Give me a minute, I..." I couldn't find a word, but Keith seems to get what I'm saying. Thank everything that he's understanding, at least...

I use my minute to put myself together, thinking back to – somewhat regretfully – what happened to my brother- what happened to _Danny_. The memories that arise from thinking back to it is nothing but bitter, bitter, and more bitterness. Even what I did after the fact just made me feel slightly disgusted with myself, even if I had every right to do so...

" _Shit_ , where do I start," I let out a laugh, but I almost cringe at how bad it sounded. "Well, I had a little brother – his name was Danny, by the way – and..." I stop to let out a nostalgic sigh. "I swear, he was the happiest little twerp you've ever seen. You couldn't seem to get rid of that smile of his, when he was younger..." I drift off.

Talking about him out loud makes it easier to remember him, without having to look at a picture of him and ending up a sobbing mess. His short, curly hair that reminds me of a black sponge, that shine in his hazel eyes, how he can't seem to stop smiling...

"Well, until a few years ago," I rub a hand down my face- might as well get it out as fast as possible. "Long story short; some jackasses ruined his life and he killed himself. There... there wasn't even a _body_ , for crying out loud-" I stopped at the shocked look on his face. "What?" I ask.

"Oh." And that's all he says, for a while. A small breeze flows through the trees, brushing a bit of my hair into my eyes. I wipe it out of my sight – _I really need to find a way to get this cut; long hair really isn't my thing_ – and refocus on the basitin in front of me. The small bit of light coming from the moon illuminates his sandy-colored face in an odd way. "I thought you said that someone _killed_ him-"

"Oh no, don't make that mistake," I say, walking right up to him. "People don't kill themselves for shits and giggles, you get driven into that corner. Danny... he wasn't a fighter; he could barely stand up for himself, but was a good friend to quite a few people. And yet..."

"Then who did it?" He asks, not even flinching from my advancement. _Cocky bastard..._

"I... rather not talk about that, but," I give him a hollow smile. "At least the person most responsible got what they deserved."

It was quiet, after I said that. Distantly, I noticed that I didn't cry, which is an improvement. I think. Keith looks to be processing it all, but something tells me that he wouldn't exactly have anything to add to what I've said.

Well. If someone told me that one of their family members died, I sure as hell wouldn't know what to say. Experience doesn't really mean anything, except that someone isn't alone in that regard. A yawn breaks the silence, and it takes me a second to realize that it's me.

"Someone's tired." Keith says, dropping that contemplative face that he had to smirk at me.

"No shit- I think dumping emotionally heavy stuff on people is taxing."

"You _think_ it is?" He snarks.

"Shut up- last I checked, I have more experience in _existing_ Mr. Still-a-Teenager." Cue annoyed frown from one basitin. Ha.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Comebacks know not what rest is, my dear Fuzzball." I pat his head mockingly, as if I'm chiding a kid. He smacks it away, of course, as I let out a laugh.

I don't see the small smile he has on his face as we walk back to the camp.

I tried a few more times to mess with him, but he keeps batting my hands away before they could reach their target: his ears. I'm not sure why, but a part of me says that they're probably _super_ soft, and that I wouldn't regret getting a handful of it. Keith puts up a good enough effort, however, so I couldn't satisfy my curiosity. Damn.

As we arrive to the clearing we set up camp in, an idea comes across my mind. "Hold on, let me show you something before you do... whatever you do before you sleep." A bemused look crosses his face before I set to my task. I quickly feed a few pieces of tinder to the fire to light up the area, before heading into my tent to fetch the binder out of my satchel.

Turning around and planting myself down in the firelight, I pat the ground next to me. "Sit." It's almost funny, how obediently he does it. Not a single question asked. Weird. "You want to know what this is?" I shake the binder for emphasis.

"It's where you keep your... pictures?" He answers tentatively, as if I asked a trick question.

"Yes, but this one is a bit special to me. This," I open it up to the first page. "Is my first photo album. Made this _years_ ago, and only finished the last page a few years ago. It means a lot to me..." I give him a look. "You still have that one I gave you?"

He looks flustered when I asked him, but he fishes out of a pocket - _somewhere_ – and pulls out _that_ picture. "I still have it. Why do you ask?"

I answer, staring into the picture of the sunset. "That was the very last one I took, the 'Farewell' photo. It was taken about a week after... Danny died, right where he jumped." I waved my hand around aimlessly after that. "Well, where they _think_ he jumped- they only found his shoes there. They never did find his body..."

I drifted off, thinking back to when I finally got the nerve to go and walk onto that bridge. It was an entire week since I saw his note, and I was given a few days off from school because of a death in the family. On the same day, I finally went back to school, dragging my feet through the halls like the walking dead. There were a couple of Danny's friends that came up to me and said comforting words, which only helped slightly that empty slot in my life that yearned for my brother.

And then that bitch _Traci Winters_ came up to me, and I could tell how fake – how _plastic_ – her words were about how 'sorry' she was about Danny, then turned around and started throwing shade at him. I never felt so _angry_ in my entire life, and never at a single person. I swore, later at the spot Danny jumped, that I would make her _pay_.

It was almost hilarious how easy it was, and how easy it was to get away scot-free. I guess being the daughter of the sheriff made knowing about how to get someone busted all the better. All I had to do was ask around about one of Traci's parties and what _exactly_ goes on there, and learn that she isn't entirely clean when it comes to those parties. Since she was part of the rich families, she must've gotten away with a _lot_ of things.

So I asked a few people in the neighborhood to report to the police about some _suspicious activities_ happening at one of Traci's frat parties, and got her ass busted for possession. The best part was that someone called my father _directly_ to go down there and investigate, and it's hard to have your parents bail you out when the fucking _sheriff_ rolls in. And seeing how it was Traci's eighteenth birthday party that she was getting high at, she was tried as an adult, instead of a minor.

I saw pictures on social media for a whole _month_ of her punk face shouting at Papa as she got dragged out of the house in cuffs. At first, I felt unbelievably satisfied at what I've done, succeeding at my vengeance being enacted to perfection – except that I wasn't there to see her face as she got dragged off – and Danny's tormentor having a permanent black mark on her life. But... then I felt empty.

Not all at once, mind you, it was a gradual thing over the course of weeks. Slowly but surely, I felt that emptiness come back- the very same that came from loosing Danny. I started questioning myself if what I had done was right- to utterly ruin someone's life for another. An eye for an eye make the world blind, and all that. It ate at me for a while, and after a month of that mess chewing me through, I had to say something.

So I went to visit Traci. It took me a while to muster the strength to actually go and visit her, but when I finally went and sat down with her – with a glass divider separating us – she might as well have been a different person. When I first saw her, I barely recognized her, and later realized that she was having major withdraw problems. It took her a while to recognize me, too, and she looked surprised to see me.

Hearing her for the first time in a while, she sounded... psychotic. Mad. _Monstrous._ She laughed when she saw me, giggled like I just told her a joke when I haven't even _spoken_ yet.

And then she started _talking_. Raving like she was still on top of the world, like the narcissistic little shit she was. She talked – _confessed_ – about how good it felt to mess with my brother, how **euphoric** it was when she crushed his spirit under her heel, how _**in bliss**_ she was when she learned that I broke at his suicide.

That empty feeling promptly left, in exchange for white-hot **rage** at the _monster_ behind the glass.

I simply waited for her to stop raving, then said, "I'm the reason you're in here."

The psychotic fit she had when my words got through her skull didn't affect me. The sight of her having to be dragged out while shouting obscenities at me didn't make me bat an eye. As I left that hellhole behind me and made my way home, I didn't feel satisfaction _or_ a vacancy in my soul.

Just... nothing. I saw a monster for the first time, and I got rid of it. But not before it took my little brother. At least it won't get anyone else...

"Hey," I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, pulling me back into reality. Keith is giving me a worried look. "You looked lost for a second."

"Just memories," I said, leaning slightly in his direction. "But yeah, I haven't touched this old thing in at _least_ a year," I shake the binder for emphasis. I open it up, flipping through a couple of pages and taking out a picture.

Said picture was one of Danny, when he was fifteen. It was around before he got dragged into the bullshit that Traci put him through, so he still had that huge grin on his face. He was getting fairly tall, shooting past me and everyone else in the family and hitting a solid six foot, towering over literally _everyone_. It was almost comical, seeing how I'm the older sibling and barely pushing five foot eight at my age- and still am.

I handed the picture over to Keith. "There's Danny, back when he was fifteen. He was probably the happiest person you've ever met, to be honest-"

"Whoa," He interrupts, staring at the photo. "Why does he look so... _strange_?"

I give him a look. "Strange how?"

"It's just... _him_ ," He turns the picture in my direction and points at specific parts of Danny, naming the 'strange' parts. "His face is shaped differently from any human I've ever seen, his skin tone is brown, and his hair looks so _weird_ -"

"What are you talking about, that's normal." I say, wariness in my tone. With the way he's talking, it's almost as if there's only one race of human around here.

" _Normal?_ I've never seen a human that looks like this in my life, Dawn." Keith looks honestly surprised, if anything.

"Well, he _is_ biracial, and technically my half-brother-" His jaw drops before I could finish.

"There's different kinds of humans where you're from?" He asks, as if I just told him the secret to the universe or something.

"Uh... yeah? What, are you saying there isn't any here?" There's no way, I mean, I'm pretty sure I have something that isn't European in me, and it might not show, but hey.

"No, there isn't any, Dawn." The finality in his voice is hard to put off, but that means...

Well, it doesn't really mean anything _immediate_. I mean, there might be a weird tingling thought in the back of my mind that says I won't find anyone here like Ma, or any other ethnic background. Creepy, but nothing life-threatening.

"Okay..." I slowly take back the picture of Danny, slotting it back into the binder. " _That_ off-putting thought aside, do you want to keep going with what we had going earlier, or..." I let the offer hang, watching the basitin.

I guess – dragging that last thought back in – this world makes up in a lack of ethnic diversity with an abundance of differing sentient life. Well, based on back home, that is. It's probably a normal thing to think here, that there's something other than a human that is capable of intricate thoughts. Back home, however, we would either jump with joy at not being alone or pull an Independence Day. Well, there _was_ New York, but that's probably bullshit.

I guess being xenophobic is a universal thing. Again, New York. Still think it's bullshit.

"Not really, no," He rolls his shoulders a bit, bringing his hand back to his side. "I don't really feel tired, though."

An idea comes to mind. "How about I talk about things from back home?"

He gives me a look, sensing how loaded that sentence was. "What kind of things?"

I grin. "Have you ever heard of a movie?"

* * *

We talked for a long time after I said that, which was mostly me telling Keith about the normal things that people back home usually had for quality of life reasons, mostly home entertainment. He looked intrigued at the idea of a movie – I said it was basically a theatrical production that was shoved into a box that can be replayed – and I promised to tell him more about the movies I've seen when we had the time. Then the last thing I remember was going on a tangent of microwaves and how much of a shitty cook I was, before I _think_ I passed out.

And then this bullshit started happening, again.

...Okay, a lot of shitty things have been happening recently. Probably have to be more specific than that.

Looking around in the vast expanse of _nothing_ that is around me – except for two things; a dark lake and a pale sun – I had decided that standing on the dark water – and wasn't _that_ a thought – was too much effort and sat down, one leg folded to my chest. The strange feelings that had accompanied me the last time I was here are absent, and there isn't any _things_ in the water, so I decided to wait.

And wait I did. Nothing had happened yet, though. It gave me a bit of time to realize that I wore some comfort clothing – dark brown sweat pants with a lighter brown shirt two sizes too large – and that I looked like myself before I got a draconic makeover. After the fifth time checking over myself, I let out an explosive sigh.

I've had enough of this.

I stand up, looking around. "Okay, I've been sitting around for who knows how long, and I think I've waited enough!" I shout into the vast expanse of water. "Mind telling me why the hell I'm here?! 'Cause it sure as hell doesn't look like you're gonna let me go anytime soon!"

My voice doesn't echo, and I get an odd feeling crawling up my back as I hear nothing in response. Glancing around, nothing has changed in my surroundings, either. So, someone is either giving me the silent treatment, or...

Well, I don't know what else, but I have a hunch it has something to do with magic. Magic is a bit of a broad term, recently, but every second I come into contact with it something either painful happens to me – or someone I know – or I get the shit scared out of me. Referring back to the creepy feeling this place gives me, it must be _at least_ something magical. I swear, Hagrid better not show up and tell me I'm a witch; I'm way too old for that, for one, and I _highly doubt_ that I'm able to use magic in the first place-

 _ **Well, I'm no half-giant, but everything else...**_ A voice suddenly says – and trails off – from... _somewhere_. There wasn't really any direction to it, but I _swear_ I heard it. I still try to look around for a possible source to it, looking for the oddly familiar sounding voice-

-and turn face-to-face with a _huge_ pale yellow and blue lizard, it's caramel-amber orbs looking directly at me.

I stare.

It stares back, slowly blinking once.

 _ **What, no snarky commentary? And here I thought I would get a fun greeting.**_ The voice drawls. It's still directionless, but I see the lizard deadpan at me along with the voice-

 _Wait._

 _ **Ah, finally,**_ It rolls it's eyes at me, the accompanying voice exasperated. _**Took you long enough to figure it out. And don't call me a lizard; that's just plain demeaning.**_ It ends with a glare, which would look terrifying if I wasn't in shock.

Oh, and I'm in shock. And realizing that I'm in shock means that it's starting to wear off and-

"I dream about the _weirdest shit_ , nowadays."

-that. I put both of my hands to my face, rubbing it roughly with a groan. Looking through the cracks in my hands, I can still see the lizard giving me an impatient look. And now it's giving me another glare.

 _ **What did I say about calling me a lizard? If you must call me something better, look at the rest of me.**_ Before I could wounder as to _how_ it – or she; the voice _is_ feminine and sounds _so familiar_ – knew I called it a lizard, it takes a step to the side, revealing the rest of the form in front of me.

My eyes snap to the most notable thing about the not-lizard in front of me, which are a pair of bat-like wings. From there, I observe the rest of the body, which has more of that strange pearlescent color – mainly light yellow with shimmering blue – on the scales, to the four – comparatively – slender legs, and then back up to follow the dirty blonde to the familiar looking horns on the head.

Horns that curve into a blue halo-like shape.

"Okay, what gives." I throw my arms up theatrically, both to shake off the feeling of _holy shit a dragon_ and for the legitimate _what the fuck_ I've been feeling for the past few minutes. Because seriously, as I said aloud, what gives.

The dragon cocks her head at me. _**I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate; gleaming one's mind is more difficult than you'd think.**_

...Shoving down the urge to shiver at bit of information, I give the dragon a look. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's because I suddenly showed up here and can't leave, or maybe it's the sun just giving me the middle finger in terms of not coloring itself properly, or maybe it _the dragon suddenly showing up_." I give her a _what do you think_ look, hands on my sides.

My eyes narrow when it starts chuffing, voice full of mirth. _**Well, to answer your questions; We're in your mind right now, I don't know either, and I'm a part of you.**_

…

I look around the dark lake one more time. "My mind's depressing." I look back to the dragon. "And say if I believe you- me- _whatever_... why a dragon? I've never seen one in person, so how would I know- you know what a dragon is?"

 _ **I don't know an exact answer,**_ The dragon stretches out – sort of like a cat – and lays down, eyes drooped lazily. _**But I have a theory.**_

"Which is?"

 _ **I didn't exactly choose to look like this, you know.**_ Cue wry look. _**I was slowly put together ever since that incident when you passed out and got your horns out**_ **there** _ **. It was only very recently that I managed to get a good look at myself.**_

"So you _don't_ know why you look like the way you do. What, did my subconsciousness put you together or something? You said that you're me, but not _why_ you're me."

I swear I saw a smirk on her face. _**There's the smart part of you. If you really must know, whatever was done to you on that day, someone or something attempted to interact with your body through your mind. It might explain why you don't remember much of it; a lot of energy was flowing through something that wasn't used to the energy of magic.**_

 _ **As for how I know, I'm part of what was released into your body through your mind, along with a small part of you that you gave off from being under a fairly large amount of stress for multiple days.**_

I mull the words over for a moment. "So... you're like a magic-induced split personality? Does that mean that you're going to try and take me over, or something equally cliché?"

She snorts, which sounds like a drawn out pop going off in a small barrel. _**No, I won't. Can't either; as I said, I'm a**_ **small part** _ **of you. The most I could do against your will is twitch a toe, and that's if I'm trying. In theory.**_

"In theory." I repeat. Well, at least I don't have to worry about being suddenly bipolar. "So, where does this theory of yours go? So far, you told me what you know, so what's the part you're not telling me?"

For the first time, she takes a moment to think out her response. _**You know how I said that I'm the product of all that magic and you overloading on stress? It turns out that the magic is the catalyst for everything happening. It didn't**_ **directly** _ **cause all of these changes to happen, it instead pulled it from... somewhere within you.**_

I furrow my brow. "From within me? What are you talking about?"

The she-dragon's eyes gain a glint to them, and losses it's lazy droop to sharpen it's serious gaze. _**It means, the draconic part of us? It's**_ **natural** _ **. As if it's always been there. The magic was just the key, but it only cracked open the door before it suddenly stopped.**_

I blink. That's... implying a lot of things. Well, more like one large, extremely terrifying thing.

"Are you saying that..." I try to finish the thought, but my jaw refuses to work.

The she-dragon doesn't need to use hers, however. _**Yup, you have dragon DNA in you, and someone is trying to unlock it.**_

I took a very, _very_ long time to digest that. At some point in my reverie, I sat down, and the she-dragon crawled over to curl around me like a large cat. She even laid her large head on my lap, my hand absentmindedly moving to scratch her chin. A low rumble comes from her, and a small part of me realizes she's _purring_. Or, you know, the dragon equivalent.

"That's..." I start, staring into the ripples being sent into the dark water. "That makes no sense. I mean..."

 _ **There is evidence pointing to it being true.**_ She supplies, eyes closed in supposed bliss. _**We may not know**_ **why** _ **, but we do know that it's there. There is one last thing, a clue, that we could look out for.**_

I watch as her head moves from my lap and slowly moves over the inky-black water. When she stops, her head is facing the pale sun. It sits there, hovering slightly under some unseen horizon, giving the impression of either a sunrise or a sunset. Despite that, it's color stays a pale yellow.

 _ **Whatever that magic had to go through, it had to go through**_ **something** _ **first. Whatever that something is, it severely slowed down the magics trying to change you.**_

"And I would be less than human if it wasn't for it?"

 _ **Correct.**_

I let my head fall back onto the she-dragon body, putting my hands up to rub my face. If this keeps up, I might end up with a headache. Can I even get a headache in my own mind, or would that just be paradoxical?

"Honestly, I preferred the witch scenario over this one?" I mumble from behind my hand.

 _ **Do you know how creepy that would be? Seeing Hagrid just meld up from the dark lake to tell you that he's about to whisk you away on a magical adventure-**_

I cough harshly, giving her a look. " _No?!_ The hell is the matter with you?!"

She starts chuffing again, and I can feel my eyes narrow at the laughing dragon. "Okay, then answer me this; what do I call you, 'cause saying 'she-dragon' in my head over and over just sounds weird."

I don't get an answer at first, and it doesn't take long for me to know why. She literally didn't exist – in a way – until recently, and if this isn't all just some extremely lucid dream then having a name for her on the spot would be nice, but...

Well, back to the problem of knowing what to call her. Bit of a roundabout way of having one, but one nonetheless.

 _ **Maria.**_ I hear the dragon say, voice sounding distant. Off, somehow. _**You can call me Maria, if you will.**_

"Maria..." I test the name on my tongue. "I think I recall reading that name somewhere. Latin, I think." I give Maria a smile. "Sounds nice."

 _ **Indeed.**_ She sounds smug, and the half-lidded look is representative of that. _**Now, I believe you were in the middle of something, before I brought you here.**_

"Yup," I let out a yawn, more for the sake of doing it than actually being tired. I don't really feel that here, which is odd. "Now shut up; I'd like to get to the next town _sometime_ soon."

My only answer is another deep chuff, before I felt Maria coil herself around me as I slipped into blissful oblivion.

* * *

I woke up slowly that morning. Normally, it was something that I hadn't been able to do since I was home, that one time with Keith back at that city – which was called South Leighton, going by the map he has – notwithstanding. I woke up in my tent on top of my bedroll, feeling... better than I had in days. I would say months, but when I went to rub my hair into some semblance of order I smacked my hand against the horns sitting on top. Now I can't tell whether I should feel annoyed or stupid because of that.

 _ **I would go with annoyed; it would be better on your psyche.**_

I flinch at the sudden voice, but recognize the oddly similar voice of myself in my mind. Now that I think about it, it sounds a lot like my huskified voice. I might've forgotten the sound of my – new – voice, embarrassingly enough. Now, the fact that there's a voice in my head makes me want to question if I'm suddenly becoming a schizo or start blaming magic.

 _ **Is huskified even a word?**_

 _Hush, you. It's too early to argue with myself._

Letting out a yawn, I crawled out of the tent flap. Being the absolute anti-morning person that I am, I had to squint at the sudden bright light that comes streaming into my eyes. Right outside my tent, I see everyone else in a better state of unpacking than I am. That's how it usually is; me waking up last, with everyone else usually further along in the morning than I. I _would_ be along with them, but something tells me that alarm clocks haven't been invented yet. Unless there's magical alarm clocks.

Eugh. My mind in the morning, I _swear_.

At first, nobody really notes my presence. If it wasn't for them focusing on making sure everything is in order – and that Trace doesn't put another tear into his tent, which made me feel marginally better at being a shitty camper – either Flora or my human buddy would've said hi. Currently, Flora is fussing over something that sounds like not believing how he can pack with his nonexistent organization skills. Keith, on the other hand, had already finished packing, and is kicking dust onto the long burned-out campfire.

Letting out another yawn, I numbly walk over to the basitin, who's examining his work. "Did I miss breakfast, or am I going to have to wait for second breakfast?"

"Second breakfast?" Despite his incredulity, he doesn't look up at me. "The more I listen to you, the more I think that you're raised by nobles."

"Me? A noble?" I snort. "Have you _met_ me? I'm pretty sure I've got nothing noble in me. I was just referencing a book from back home." And an awesome movie. I need to remember to show him one if I ever manage to find a way to break dimensional gaps, or whatever sent me here. "Besides, both of my parents are orphans; I wouldn't know even if I tried to look."

"So what you're saying," He finished his inspection and started to turn towards me. "Is that you _could_ have a noble heritage and not know it."

" _Or_ , my grandparents could be the worst people to ever exist, and go crazy knowing that I'm related to-"

"Dawn." Keith says, cutting off my sarcastic statement. Looking back at him, his eyes are wide, starring at... _the hell is he staring at?_

 _ **Don't look now, but I think you forgot your pants again.**_

Against Maria's advice, I follow his gaze downwards to... clothed legs, with pants firmly attached, if a bit tight looking. Very tight, now that my mind is starting to catch up. Which Keith just so happens to be staring at...

I look back at the agape basitin with a deadpan. "You are _so not_ checking me out in broad daylight. I mean," I look back down at myself, poking my waist. "Unless I suddenly grew a few sizes, I don't think it's a reason to stare-"

" _Behind you._ " He breathes out, not looking away and _interrupting_ me again.

With a furrowed brow, I turn around and inspect the ground behind me. Other than the boot prints tracking my path over here – which looked like I dragged my feet for the better part of it – and my tent, there isn't anything shocking or impressive.

" _Okay..._ What am I looking at, exactly?" Deciding that more people are needed to resolve this, I call over to the couple. "Hey, guys! Can you tell Keith to shove off; he won't stop starring at... _something_."

Only sparing me a glance, the two wrap up their not-argument – which they sound so sweet in that it gives me diabetes just listening to it – and look over in my direction.

Only to do _the same damn thing_. Just... _staring at me_. Or, more specifically, my waist.

"Oh." Trace furrows his brows. "That's... is that normal?" Like some sort of confused puppy, he tilts his head.

"No, that definitely isn't normal." Flora answers, not taking her eyes off of my waist.

"I'm not getting fat, okay?!" I suddenly shout out, which only earned me more shocked looks. Honestly, it surprised even me to say it.

 _ **Hon, is there something you're not telling us?**_

 _No, I just want them to get to the point already instead of... this._

I ignore the teasing chuckle from my tenant and level Keith with a harsh look. "Look, no more bullshit. Will you _please_ tell me what's going on?"

He seemed to finally snap out of whatever funk he was in, and his head snapped up to face mine. "You have a new... _appendage_ , now."

…

"Excuse me, _what_." I say.

"A tail, Dawn," Flora says off to the side. "He means you have a tail now."

The elaboration throws me for a loop, and – against my better judgment – I twist around to look _directly_ behind myself. Thinking back on it, Keith did say 'behind me', so I guess it's my fault that I didn't see it coming and-

" _Oh my god_ , it's a tail." The words tumble out of my mouth, eyes glued to...

 _ **It sort of looks like mine.**_ I hear Maria muse. _**I mean, it's smaller – of course – but it's a stark similarity. Guess I'm good at premonition, when it comes to the more draconic part of us.**_

 _I have. A motherfucking. Tail._

 _ **Yes, we already established this, hon.**_ Maria snarks.

Maria wasn't wrong about it looking a lot like hers; it has the same pale yellow color with a blue iridescence and a tuft of dirty blonde hair running down the spine of it. Which, by the way, is awfully long and _attached to me_.

And then a thought comes to my mind and, in spite of the rising tension directed at me, I say it.

"Well, at least I'm right."

"What?" I hear Keith say.

I look to him with a shrug. "I'm not getting fat."

It takes him a second to register my words, then- "You... are taking this _remarkably well_."

...He isn't wrong, I'll give him that. I _am_ taking this well, more so than most people I know back home would in my situation. It's... kind of creepy, how logical I am about this whole thing.

 _ **That would be me.**_ Maria pipes up.

 _And why would a dragon in my head help things?_

 _ **Because; I'm the amalgamation of your stress and heightened emotional outbursts you've been having recently. I'm shouldering some of that burden of yours so that you don't run around like a chicken with its head cut off.**_ I hear another chuckle from within my mind. _**If anything, you would've had a panic attack when we first met if I didn't suppress the urge.**_

 _That... has some concerning implications._ I say to her, slowly. _I've heard cases about people with split personalities, and none of them end well. How can you be most of my negative emotions while being so... nice?_

 _ **That's because of your care.**_ She continues at my confusion. _**This might be a hard pill to swallow, but you're not the most sociable person around. You talking to Keith and sticking around him – and then the two love birds – you practically latched onto them. Which, if you think about it, makes sense; you're suddenly in a new place, with nobody to possibly fall back on, and there just so happens to be a small handful of colorful, nice characters to lean on emotionally.**_

 _...Oh._

"Dawn, you there?" I focused back into the conversation – the one outside of my mind – to see Keith- no, everyone giving me a worried look. "Are you sure you're not getting sick? I could probably make a remedy of sorts."

I huff out a small laugh. "Really? I'm sprouting new appendages over here, and you think a couple of plants can help?" At the long face he has, I take away the edge from my words. "Relax, fuzzball. It's going to take more than a tail and some horns to get me worried. You know what I've been through."

At that last part, it's almost like a shadow passes over his face when he remembers our... conversation? Weird game that kids use on each other to get them to talk? Whatever last night was. Looking back on it, well...

It's been a very, _very_ long time since I got something off my chest. To be honest with myself, I don't even think I talked about it to people since I tunneled and gunned for putting Traci behind bars without it connecting to me. If anything, I acted as if I just bounced back to my usual, detached self. In reality, it was anything _but_.

Guess I'm finally seeing through my own act.

Keith lets out a sigh. "Alright, you have a point. And to answer your first question; yes, you missed breakfast. But..." He moved over to his pack and, after moving around some items, pulled out something bundled in a mostly-clean cloth. "I did save some for you-"

"Woo!" I snatch the covered up food from him, unwrapping it and taking a huge bite out of the game – which he must've hunted, the showoff – and letting out a pleased sound at the taste of _meat_. " _Food._ You have no idea how much I love you right now."

Keith, of course, let out a snort. "That's all? Just give you some food and I'm in your graces?"

I wait until I gulp down my current bite and said, "Nah, I was talking to the food."

"Right." He doesn't seem to buy it, as he saunters back to his pack to close it.

A smirk comes across my face. _Time for fuzzball to get a bit more pressure put on him..._

* * *

I... don't know what to think about Dawn, at this point.

When I first met her, she was... nice. She was a no-nonsense woman who wanted to find her way home, and had views on life that seem so _weird_ to have that it makes it feel like she doesn't come from, well, _anywhere_. Apparently, from what Trace told me, it was _her_ that pushed him to talk to her, which then turned into the relationship between Trace and I.

 _Trace._ He's been an... interesting person to stumble upon – or to get saved from – but now, I can't think of leaving him. Sure, he has amnesia – which was _hilarious_ at first, but kinda gets annoying sometimes – and he's also the nightmare to keidran everywhere for the past few years, but... The way he's so nice, the way he treats me like _me_ instead of just another keidran, it's like a dream come true!

And Dawn? She says that we make a great couple, as if she's _talking about_ _the weather_.

There's definitely something going on with her, and it all has to do with where she came from. But where is there in human territories that humans enslaved other humans? I might not know much about human history, but something like _that_ sounds important enough to reference. Yet again... I don't know that much; I _was_ a slave, long ago.

And then she started growing _horns_ , her face started to look different, and her eyes turned a strange orange color- like amber, that's it! There's also that weird staff that she picked up that _might_ shoot water, which is strange- why was it in the middle of a pond in the first place? Then there's the whole... _thing_ , she has with that jerk, Keith. I don't know how someone like her can stand being around someone so jerkish like him, she seems more the kind to try and act like every other human when it comes to seeing anything that _isn't_ human.

But she doesn't. She still insists that she wants to follow along with him, and that she stays with us. Well, she did say that she has no clue where she is, and that she doesn't know anyone else...

That, and she totally has a thing going on with Keith; I mean, what woman walks out of a room with a man feeling all sore _doesn't_ have something going on.

Then again, she sprouted horns and screamed so hard out of agony that she passed out not an hour after I asked her about it, so it might've been that. But still!

Now, though, I'm stuck with my mouth agape at the fact that she has a _tail_ , now. It's weird enough, already, but what makes it worse is that she _isn't panicking_. If I were her, I would be freaking out over it all, that's for sure. And then I noticed that there's something that I hadn't until now.

"Why are they being nice to each other again?" I say to Trace, watching the two of them be more than civil- dare I say friendly.

"Hm?" He glanced back at me, then looked closer at the bantering duo. "Huh, they aren't avoiding each other again."

"But _why_?" I whine out. "They were basically at each other's throats for days, and now they're-"

Dawn raised her voice, smirking at the jerk's back. "What do you want me to say; that I love the taste of your meat?"

I felt my face heat up. I see Keith trip over something in a coughing fit, his tail going ramrod straight. And Trace... Trace just looks confused. Still, _what_.

Keith managed to get himself put together enough to look back at Dawn, whose new appendage is now swaying slightly and looping slightly at the end. "The _hell_ was that for, woman?!"

Her face is pure smug, seeming to enjoy the reaction. "I think you have an idea after what we did last night."

 _After they did_ _ **what**_ _last night-_

Keith pauses for a second, then he... smirks? "Says the woman who put in the most effort. You were practically glued to me for half an hour."

…

I looked over to Dawn, who was _blushing_ for the first time since I met her.

Oh my.

 _Oh my._

"...what are they talking about?" Trace says to me, voiced lowered to keep the two – _oh my_ – unaware.

I look over to Trace, seeing the confused look on his face. Did he really not know... Yeesh, amnesia is practically a blessing at this point. I open up my mouth to explain – _oh_ _ **my**_ – but then I shut it.

"It's nothing important." I quickly say. "Hey, wasn't I in the middle of scolding you?"

"Um... no?" He says weakly.

"That's not how memory loss works, Trace."

"Oh. Damn."

* * *

It took me a while to finish packing my tent and other stuff. Most of that time was spent trying to verbally combat with a certain fuzzball that was suddenly _good_ at it, though, so that explains why Flora was shooting us an impatient look. Which was odd, because as soon as I catch her doing that her eyes bugged out and then looked away from us. Huh.

After shouldering my pack and taking my staff into hand, I followed after everyone as we march onward. And walked. Then we walked some more. Oh, we also did a bit more of – you guessed it – _walking_. For how long, you ask?

Nine. Days. For nine days, we walked through these damn woods as Keith kept trying to navigate us through the forest. While I do trust him to get us through all of this – after all, he's been traveling non-stop for a few years – I still can't help but think this is a bit ridiculous. Okay, more than a _bit_ , but I didn't feel like saying anything.

Trace, however, had no such reservations. "We're lost, aren't we?"

Keith give the blue-haired man an annoyed look. "No, I just need a landmark..."

It isn't the first time Trace questioned his navigation skills, and while I'm starting to think we _are_ lost, I'm probably going to wait a day or two more. Flora... is being Flora. I look to my side to see her _eat a butterfly_ , acting like the happiest person in the world.

I'm starting to envy her ability to act so happy.

"Landmark?" Trace scoffs. "The only thing on the map is the word 'forest'. You aren't looking for a giant letter 'I' or something, are you?" Keith just grumbles a bit at him, flipping the map straight with a flick.

"Children, can you stop arguing for five minutes?" I say, managing to take my eyes away from Flora demolishing the local butterfly population. "You're giving each other and the adults a headache." I finish with a deadpan.

"Aren't you younger than I am?" Trace says, pacing over to me.

"Well I certainly act like it; even Keith is refraining from barking back at you." I give him an odd look. "Speaking of barking, what _are_ you trying to accomplish; we're going _somewhere_ , and I wasn't exactly told where."

Trace drops the scowl to give me an odd look in return. "What does that have to do with barking?"

I shrug. "I was just trying to get an answer out of you. Speaking of..." I give him a pointed look.

"...I'm trying to find someplace familiar, so I can find out why I have amnesia." He says, still giving me that odd look- wait, what?

"Amnesia? Since when did you have that?"

"About a day before we met, I think? Yeah, so for almost three weeks, now." He gives a thoughtful look, then looks at me. "Wait, we've been traveling for almost three weeks and you never bothered to ask where we are going?"

I shrug. "No. I kinda thought this would be more... temporary until _these_ happened." I point at the horns and tail, which is currently doing some slow loops at the end while it sways with my steps.

Speaking of the tail, it... _weird_ , to say the least. Having one, I mean. Physically speaking, feeling it is like, I don't know, like having a longer spine? It sort of bends like how my spine allows me to lean over and sort of move around like a weird slinky, but with a hell of a lot more freedom. I remember tripping myself when I subconsciously wrapped it around my legs and fell flat on my face, which gave everyone but me a good laugh.

...Alright, it was a little bit funny, but still. Flora, at least, help me with giving more thought about _where_ it is so that I don't end up tripping me – or others – while I do my thing.

"Oh." Trace looks like he wants to say more, but ends up awkwardly moving off. I end up doing the same, moving up closer to Keith.

"So... Keith," I say, sauntering up to his slightly hunched form. I never really noticed until now, but we're around the same height, with me probably being the taller of the two. A small piece of me feels like gloating that fact over him, while the other tells me that he has enough on his plate. "Weird thing to ask after knowing each other for less than a month, but what is your family like?"

His face does that thing that makes me think he ate something sour, before answering curtly. "They're dead."

 _ **Looks like a sore spot, if I ever saw one.**_

 _Says the mind dragon that has only existed for less than two weeks._

 _ **Point.**_

I nudge him with a shoulder. "That doesn't really tell me much, you know. Had they died recently, or were you orphaned as a kid Batman style?"

All that got me was an annoyed look from one basitin. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

" _Boredom._ We've been in these woods for _weeks_ , and talking is about the only thing that's important. Besides, I already knew that your mother was dead. Remember?"

It took him a second but, with a knowing look sent his way, he remembered. "Right. Which also means that yours is dead, too."

I give him a crooked smile. "Well, that's where it gets complicated, actually."

Keith _finally_ looked up from the map to give me his attention in the form of a curious look. "How complicated can it be?"

"Not very, but it does require an explanation. First off, I wasn't lying when I said that my mother is dead. On the other hand, the woman who raised me that I call Ma, I considered my mother and still do so."

He tilted his head to the side, one if his ridiculously over sized ears going along with the movement. "You know that the woman who raised you isn't your mother, but you still call her as such?"

"Yup." I answer with a more proper grin. "My birth mother – her name's Tera, by the way – had her heart burst somehow when I was born. My dad had a few hard months trying to deal with a newborn before he met Ma – Destiny, the woman who raised me _and_ is Danny's mother."

"Wait, then Danny isn't your actual brother then?" He looked... shocked?

"Half-brother, remember? You were shocked at his appearance while I told you, so I'll give you a pass. Besides, I don't care about all that blood relation nonsense; I _care_ for my family, and nothing small like having different mothers is going to make me think differently."

"And, well, Ma's pretty awesome; she's a doctor, and a no-nonsense woman. I wanted to be like her, when I was much younger, before I _really_ got into photography."

"Hm." Keith hummed, seeming to mull over my thoughts. "You- you _really_ don't think like most people I've met in passing."

I hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Well now, fuzzball, most people aren't me, are they?" I nod my head in his direction. "So, do you have any siblings?"

"No; only child. No other family, for that matter."

"Same here. It also might contribute to the reason why I don't care about familial relations; if I don't have a lot of them, then I just-"

 _ **Where's your blue-haired friend?**_

 _What, Trace? He's right behind me, isn't he?_

"Dawn, your doing that... _thing_ , again." Keith is giving me another worried look, but now Maria got me thinking.

"Hold that thought, fuzzball. Hey, Trace! How're you holding up back there?" I throw over my shoulder, glancing back to see his confirmation.

Except that I don't see it. Or him, for that matter. I stop moving, Keith halting a step after mine stopped. Flora, who was in the middle of messing with more butterflies, also seemed to pick up on the sudden silence.

"You got to be shitting me." I facepalm, for extra emphasis.

* * *

 **A/N: Well now. Maria happened, Dawn and Keith had a heart-to-heart, and nobody knows what to do with the stick.**

 **So, now it's December. It snowed a couple of days ago, which was fun. I was going to think about a Christmas themed, short chapter for this story, but I'm not sure I can whip one up fast enough with something unique.**

 **Shame on me, then. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and that you didn't mind the gap too much.**

 **P.S.: Threw in a reference, which might link in that thing I did for the interlude. If ya connected the dots, cool. If not, then there are probably one or two more chances to do so in the future. Happy hunting.**


	9. Crying Tiger, Angry Dragon

**A/N: A wild chapter appears!**

 **So, been a while, hasn't it? No excuse, other than laziness and the fact that I'm not a professional writer. Shocking, right?**

 **Anyways, here's the newest chapter!**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **If the past disclaimers weren't obvious enough, then let me say it again: I do not own Two Kinds. Okay? Okay.**_

* * *

 _I looked away. For two minutes._

 _ **Yes, you did.**_

 _Two minutes, Maria! I didn't even know that it was possible to get lost in two minutes!_

 _ **I didn't either; but yet again, I am you.**_

I take in another breath, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Trace! The hell did you go, blue top!?" My voice echoes into the forest, following the calls of everyone else that did the same. Well, minus the blue top comment. Not really sure where that came from, really.

I blame the dragon parts on me.

 _ **Hey.**_

 _You're part of my mind; you get a pass._

Getting back to the matter at hand, the only other human of our colorful group just up and disappeared, and for the past who-knows-how-long we've been shouting to try and get Trace's attention. Seeing how we have been doing it for this long, it doesn't seem to be working.

And to think that he was complaining to Fuzzball about him being terrible at guiding us through the forest. The irony is amusing, and I would've laughed if the situation wasn't getting increasingly dire every passing second.

I rub my face with a groan. "How can we lose someone with sky-blue hair in the middle of a _forest_? I turned my back for two minutes..." I look at the others, examining their varying levels of dishevelment. Keith seems to be the most put together, aside from me, while Flora seems to be a hop, skip and a jump away from a panic attack.

Keith lets out a sigh. "You're telling me; at least I have the excuse of staring at the map. You, on the other hand," He gives me a look. "Saw him last."

"What are you implying; that it's my fault he's gone?" I try to put some heat into the words, but... something's been bugging me. Keeping my thoughts elsewhere...

A smacking sound brings my attention back to the present, looking over to its source to see Flora with her palm to her forehead. "Oh, what am I _doing_? I could've just tried to track his scent!"

"Wait, you could've done that this whole time?" I deadpan at her, and she shrinks slightly at the intensity of my gaze. "You know what, never mind; you were stressed, and people under pressure make mistakes. Although making up for said mistakes would be _greatly appreciated_."

"Alright, alright; I get the hint. _Yeesh_ , you don't have to be so rude about it..." She looked a bit put off at the pushing, but nonetheless moves to do... whatever she's about to do. Which is to get on her hands and knees and sniff the ground for a bit.

…Oh, and I forgot to mention that she's _not wearing anything below the waist._

Yeah. There was a lot of that for the past couple of weeks. Honestly, I wouldn't know whether I should be worried if I somehow forget someone wearing anything at all.

I'm going to er on the side of caution and say that's a bad thing.

 _ **At least we know Trace has good taste.**_

 _Could you not?_

 _ **What?**_ Maria had the audacity to sound _offended_. _**There is no shame in appreciating what is there. Besides, you cannot tell me that I am wrong, hon.**_

 _That's not the point, you useless reptile._

 _ **That's right, you can't. Besides, Keith's still staring.**_

 _Honestly, would you just- wait, what?_ Her words just caught up to me, and before I could stop myself I whipped my head over to said basitin to see him doing just that. _Oh my god, he really is staring at her ass._

 _ **If that piece of tiger meat can get both of the men enraptured, then there's no shame in also being that way.**_

 _Just because an idiot said they could breathe underwater in this one lake doesn't mean I'm going to try._

 _ **But if two idiots did, and you saw evidence...**_

Before I could give my annoyed response, Flora's head bolted to one side, a grin on her face. "I think... he's over there! Come on, you two!" And off she goes, running in the direction that she directed.

"A-alright..." Keith says, his ears in that splayed look. "Lead the way, Flor- ACK!"

As I pass him to follow, I smacked the back of his helmeted head. When he tries to give me a questioning look, I just give him one in return, then nudge my head in Flora's direction.

I... never thought it was possible, but that blush managed to show through all that fur on his face. Still, I roll my eyes at him and turn to follow after the impatient tiger.

* * *

After Flora caught wind of – or however she tracks – Trace, we spent the next few minutes either calling out his name or waiting on Flora to keep us on track. Although Flora says that his scent is becoming easier to follow as time goes on, I can't help but feel my doubts about how well Trace is going to be when, _if_ , we find him.

He did say he was an amnesiac, right before he disappeared on us.

Not only that, but this whole forest is giving me the creeps. There's this feeling crawling up my spine every time I don't try and occupy myself with doing something, like there's something that my instincts are trying to tell me. But every time I try to heed their words and take a longer look around me, it's just more forest. It might just be me staying too long in the woods without taking a breather in civilization.

Or, as I've been saying, it's the more draconic part of me creeping me out. Not that Maria is a terrible thing to have around, but the thought that my body has radical changes that start from me being here in Mekkan, and, well...

Is it permanent? I'm going to have to be honest with myself; I want to have my normal body back, and I want it preferably before I find a way back home. If I don't, and I show up home looking like this, will anybody believe that it's _me_? For crying out loud, my _face_ doesn't even look like mine anymore, not including the horns and fucking _tail_ sprouting out of me!

…

What am I going to _do_?

I put on a tighter grip on the driftwood piece, having been using it as a sort of walking stick, and I start moving again when I noticed that I haven't been moving during that inner reflection. I put my offhand up to my mouth to cup it as I take in a breath to shout out Trace's name-

...And then I notice how _quiet_ it is. Last I remember, Flora was checking the scent trail to make sure we stay on path, and they might've started talking quietly between each other but I decided to give myself some time to think. Where the hell did they go?

Looking around myself, I can barely remember which way we were going in, much less which direction they _could have_ gone in. "God damn, why do I do this to myself..." I mumble under my breath.

 _I don't suppose you have any ideas, Maria?_

 _ **Sorry, hon- I'm not all knowing.**_

Well, it was worth asking, at least. _Shit_ , why did I have to be so distracted? Speaking of being distracted...

There's that feeling, again; that ubiquitous _something_ in this forest that makes my skin crawl and my spine shiver. Like there's something sinister hiding in the shadows made by the trees, watching.

Waiting.

Keeping in mind of where I came into this small clearing from, I decide to head in the opposite direction of it. It feels like we've been heading in this general direction, anyways. Unless Trace made a sudden turn at some point, then it probably isn't the worst idea in the world. Or maybe moving _is_ the worst idea, and maybe I was supposed to stay put so it's easier for the others to find me.

Then again, there's a shit's chance in hell that I'm going to stick around with that foreboding feeling drilling into me.

* * *

I suddenly feel like breaking this magic stick over my leg.

I've been walking for _maybe_ an hour or so, and so far I haven't seen hair nor hide of everyone else, much less hearing anything. I could've sworn I heard someone shout out at some point, but going in that direction didn't yield anything. Something tells me that it was a mistake making a turn like that, but I could've _sworn_ that I saw the same tree twice and the fact was cemented.

I'm lost, in the middle of a forest, on some _magical_ landmass filled to the brim with enough problems to give an army of therapists a migraine. Joyous place, really.

Please note the sarcasm.

 _ **You have a tendency to monologue when things don't go your way, along with a healthy dose of irony.**_

Oh yeah, my brain buddy. _Thanks, Captain Obvious; whatever shall I do without your help?_

I didn't get a verbal response, but I get the vague sense of her being miffed. _Great._

...Wow, I really do get sarcastic when I'm under stress. Ma would either be disappointed or extremely proud. Nah, Papa would be the proud one; he'd probably say that I'm evoking 'mean girl power' or something to get a laugh out of me. Speaking of, I think I usually flock back to the nest around this time of month, just so that I can get some family contact in. Calling is nice and all, and I still might be in the same town, but hey.

…

Hm. I'm surprised that I'm not feeling more homesick. I mean, there was that nervous breakdown on my second night here, but that was mostly because of the 'holy shit I'm somewhere not on Earth' factor rather than everything that has happened. The only thing that's somewhere close to that was opening up to Keith a bit about... Danny, but even then it was mostly because I _wanted to_.

Even right now, I'm not really panicking over getting lost, just frustrated over doing so in the first place-

 _Crack._

I snap my head in the direction of the noise, all thought crashing to a stop. I could've sworn I heard a branch snap, almost as if...

"Hello? Keith, Flora?" I call out, despite the growing pit in my stomach telling me it's a pipe dream that it's them. I wait, listening for anything to happen again, or if anything walks out of the brush.

And then something forcefully introduced itself to the back of my skull, the last thing I hear and feel is a sickening crack as the world goes dark.

* * *

I'm scared.

It all happened so fast; we were just going through a shortcut, Master saying that it could save us a couple of days, then as soon as he finished it _blood_ started leaking out of his mouth and he fell off of the cart and- _and_ -

Now I'm in a cage, and a bunch of scary humans are laughing as they move around Master's things as they keep giving me weird looks. They never get close enough for me to hear what they're saying, but they took my clothes and I really don't like how the one with the big axe is looking at me.

And I'm so, _so_ hungry... they gave me some nasty-tasting things to eat, and I threw up once...

Crying just makes them mad, though, so I just curl up in the corner. I used to stay in the center, but then the... thing was dragged in here with me.

A bit ago, they dragged in a human that had _horns_ and a lizard's tail. They took her clothes, too, and I can see the dry blood running down her back. I though she was dead, but she's still moving a little bit. She hasn't waken up yet, but from what I can hear they think that she's a _dragon_.

She doesn't look much like one lying on her side and not wearing anything-

"Snrk!" She suddenly _snorts_ , like she was just sleeping, and lets out a groan as she curls in further, her tail going to wrap herself a bit.

And then she twitches. Suddenly, she sit up, facing away from me as she tilts her head down at herself.

"Why am I naked?" A voice that almost sounds like it's growling comes from her. She looks up as she lets out a hiss of pain, her hand going to her hurt head. "And _ow_ , what hit me? I swear if that car came here just to try and finish me off-" She starts to turn around, then freezes when she faces me.

My gray eyes blink.

Her amber eyes blink back.

"...Hi?" She says, sounding like she's asking me something. Her eyes start to look down, then they quickly go back to my face. "Uh... you wouldn't happen to know why I'm here, would you? Or," She looks around, seeming to notice the cage for the first time. "Why we're in a cage?"

I blink, again. "You're weird."

Her face drops, giving me a blank look. "You're telling _me_ , kid." She runs a hand down the side of her face, looking up to the ceiling of the cage. "This has got to be the weirdest month of my life, by far. But yet again, this is probably yours, too. Right?" She gives me a crooked smile, then goes back to rubbing the back of her head.

...She's right, this is the weirdest couple of days I've had. No, it's more scary, but it definitely isn't _normal_. "Bandits." I tell her.

She stops her motion, then looks me in the eye. "Bandits?"

"Bandits."

"Banditos?"

 _What?_ "What?"

"Oh, sorry," She points to her head. "Probably the head injury-"

" _Well, well, well,_ " A deep, scary voice comes from behind her, cutting her off. "The freak lived after all."

* * *

I turn around after being interrupted to face the person behind me. The guy is _huge_ , with a shitload of muscles and hefting an equally large axe on his shoulder. His face is grizzled, with a five-o-clock shadow and a few scars slapped on along with a sneer on his lips.

My eyes, however, instantly drift towards his hair, which is a _bowl cut_ , of all things, which kinda ruins the whole intimidating figure he seems to be working towards.

"Kind of you to join us among the living." He starts, voice sounding like he's gargling gravel – or a bad case of morning voice. "Now, here's the deal-"

I let out a little chuckle, cutting _him_ off, which then quickly turns into a laughing fit that lasts a few seconds. "I-I'm sorry, but," I give him an amused look. "I can't take you seriously."

Silence. His face seems to twist from the seeming sheer absurdity of my words, and there's enough time for multiple pins to drop through the quiet.

"Don't get me wrong, you did pretty good on the whole 'I am your doom' thing you had going," I cough out another chuckle, then point at his head. "But to be blunt, your hair looks _so fucking stupid_."

I hear a couple of laughs suddenly come up from behind him, and I lean around to see that there is an _entire camp_ sitting right in front of me, complete with about six other, equally bandit-y individuals. Two of them, currently, are trying their hardest to quit their laughing, and unsuccessfully from the looks of things.

One of the non-chortling bandits gives Bowl-cut an amused look. "He's got you there, boss."

Bowl-cut is now fuming, hand gripping his axe as I see him grind his teeth together. "You three shut it, or _else_."

 _That_ shut them up instantly, as if he just hit a magical mute button on them. That... doesn't really bode well for me. At all.

He then looks back to me. "If I were you, _freak_ , then I wouldn't be so brave. After all, you're the one in the cage."

 _ **Dawn,**_ Maria speaks up. _**I suggest you come up with something to say that doesn't end with an axe in your-**_

"How about you let me out of this cage so I can beat your dumb ass."

 _ **...skull...**_ Her voice turns thoughtful. _**Perhaps I am suppressing more than stress...**_

Bowl-cut does a double-take, and that intimidating facade of his breaks again to show how surprised he is. Hell, even I am a bit surprised with myself.

Not enough to stop, however. "Shit, I'll do it buck naked just to rub in how much of a _total bitch_ _you are_ , Bowl-cut."

 _Wow_ , I'm impressed with myself. I think that growl at the end beat out _his_ , and he's the bigger one out of everyone here. Probably has something to do with the dragon-ing that I'm going through.

 _ **We're dead.**_

 _Relax, it was just a bluff; I only just met the guy and even I know that he has an ego that's far from his IQ-_

" _Alright._ "

I blink.

I hear a smacking found come from behind me, and a glance shows the little tiger girl facepalming.

I almost hit my head against the bars as Bowl-cut calls for one of the others to grab the key the cage I'm in, and I only stop because Ma would beat me if she saw me agitating a head injury. "Oh, goddamn it."

* * *

Okay, so I _think_ a few minutes have passed, and in the time it took for me to both get my ass handed to me and pull some freaky body mutations, a certain Fuzzball came charging out of left field yelling his head off while I-

You know what, let me back it up a bit- I took a few extra blows to the head and I feel like I need to give myself a more coherent recap. So, where do I start...

How about when I get punched _really hard_ by Bowl-cut and started tasting more copper than I'm comfortable with.

"Gah!" And... now I'm on the ground, the feeling of getting pummeled on by someone who _definitely_ knows how to fight screaming through my body. My naked body.

God-fucking-damn, why did I suggest that? Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot, despite what my GPA says. I don't need Maria to tell me that. Bringing an arm up to wipe off the small stream of blood leaking out of my mouth, I shakily take stock of my surroundings.

So there's the gaggle of Bowl-cut's mooks snickering and sneering at me, the big guy himself, my beaten and bloody ass on the ground, and a depressed-looking kid in a cage adjacent to Bowl-cut. He's really been at it, forgoing that axe of his so that he could 'really enjoy this', or so he says.

I try to drag myself to my feet, but after a few tried I can only manage a kneel. "Okay, yup... that last one hurt, I'll admit." I wheeze out, spitting up a glob of saliva and crimson. "Y'know, you _really_ didn't have to take my clothes. Or the kid's either, for that matter." I give Bowl-cut a weird look at that. "Why the hell did you take our clothes, anyways? I'd get me, but it gets a bit creepy when you pull the girl into all of this."

It gets a bit quiet at that, before there seems to be a unanimous dark chuckle coming from every member of the fucking neanderthals. Bowl-cut stops long enough to give me another once-over, especially the tail and horns. "Oh, it's just that we don't feel like clothing the animals, really. Although, to be honest, we never had an Adrakist washout before, but it certainly will be an... _interesting_ experience."

I let out a wet cough that was almost a dark laugh, and I give him a look. "Oh great, not only will I die naked in the middle of a forest, it's to a rapist. Lucky me."

And then I start feeling genuinely worried when everyone responds with another chorus of sinister laughter.

One of the goons pipe up from the back. "Oh no, darling. We's not gonna do that to ya, we're more interested in ya's _other_ special parts." And yet _again_ , their eyes go to the tail... and horns...

 _Oh..._ I look at everyone, again. Harder. They're wearing old-ish clothing, yes, but they also have on some fur cloaks of some kind. I didn't really take notice of the shape, before, but now...

They're shaped like humans, as if they were... keidrans...

 _Oh shit._

I start hearing the little girl start crying again. She must've been sharp, if she just understood what I just did. We're nothing but animals to these monsters. I distantly hear the big guy say something to the others, but it sounds miles away from where I am. I barely see a couple of them come up to me and start dragging me off to the cage.

Then the only thing I hear is the crying turn to screaming as the monster yanks out the little girl, who can't be older than eleven. The screaming, crying little girl, whose name I don't even know, about to be harvest like some animal.

 **Monsters.**

I feel my body tense up, and a huge, wracking pain running through me. But I can barely feel it as I stare at the **monstrosity** walking further away with the child in its grasp. I distantly hear some distressed noises coming from the things dragging me, the pain writhing into my legs, my hands and up my arms, then into my back.

Then I hear a series of bony snaps and bloody tears, my body lurching and skin crawling as the two let go of me.

And I run- no, _leap_ at the **monster** trying to butcher a _kid_ , feeling more than hearing a roar of anger leave my throat. The **monster** turns around, but all it could do was have a flash of fear overtake its face before I got my hands on it. Using the momentum of the pounce, I drove the side of its head into the ground.

Then I pick it back up and throw it back down, again and again. I got in a few good bashes before I hear a familiar voice roaring out from the treeline, running his sword through an unsuspecting **freak** -

 _ **STOP!**_

-and then everything about the situation comes crashing down. I seize up, watching as Keith catches the attention of the rest of the bandits. Slowly, glacially, I look down to the form below me, only to be met with a bloody mush under... _are those my hands what the_ -

I snap my head up to the girl, with tears running down her fuzzy little face, and her gaze is trapped at the crushed head underneath my hands. When I look at her, she moves her head up to meet my – probably panicking – face.

"We need to go, _now_." I tell her.

She nods, but she doesn't go to move at all. She looks back at the large tent, hugging herself.

Right, clothes. "I'll be right back. Stay safe, alright?" A nod, and then I rush off to the tent.

When I push back the flap, I'm met with piles of, well, stuff. There's a mish-mash of miscellaneous things here and there, like an open crate filled with oranges, some rolls of cloth, and so on. I try to look for my clothes, but the sounds coming from outside doesn't sound too great, so I find a pile of clothes and grab a pair of essentials as fast as possible – while also spoiling a few to dry the _blood oh god_ – and then run out.

Or stumble out, because my legs aren't even normal, anymore. I'll deal with that later.

As soon as I leave, I watch as Keith looks over in my direction and the biggest flood of relief flood over his face in weeks. Currently, he's intimidating the hell out of the rest of the bandits, along with Trace- who seems to be the most intimidating, despite looking vaguely clueless. Some of said bandits are wounded in some way- and that guy is missing a hand, _okay_.

I shake my head – which hurt to do; head injuries and all – and I head over to the kid. "Time to go, kitten."

She stumbles upright, then practically buries herself into my side, claws and all. It hurts, but I'll ignore it until we get the hell out of here, preferably _yesterday_. I take a wide berth around the group of marauders, which doesn't seem all that hard seeing how when they look at me they _flinch_.

Serves the bastards right...

Soon, we get to the treeline, where Flora is waiting. It was hard to spot her at first, because somehow I missed it being close to dusk, but she helped by waving her arms. She doesn't give any questioning looks towards the plus one at my side, which almost makes me question how long they were here until I remember that we're in the middle of something, and so I rush over to her.

With an arm around the little tiger attached to my hip and the other holding onto some clothes that I don't even know if they had previous owners, along with that fact that I'm still not wearing anything, I give Flora a tired look. "This place is going to make me an alcoholic, Flo, I'm telling ya."

* * *

"YOU DID _WHAT?!_ "

I flinch back at the shout, giving the bewildered basitin a nervous half-smile. "I said I _might_ have taunted the bandit leader into a fight while na-"

"But _why?_ Why?!" He looks to be getting progressively more exasperated by the minute, his tail twitching every which way as his expression goes deeper into horror.

Well, I could tell him that I was buying time for them to probably show up. Although, I'm not really in the mood to be lying. It's getting later and later into the night, and while I managed to put some pants on and cut the back of a shirt in half and tied it so it could fit my _motherfucking wings_ , I still feel like I'm missing something. I look down at my feet, only to be met with a dragon-like version of Keith and Flora's strange legs.

Yeah, who knew that having weird feet made wearing shoes a challenge. Never liked heels, anyways...

"...'cause I got angry." I mumble at him.

My only response is a loud smack, and I glance up to see his hand making harsh contact to his face. Facepalm. Okay, yeah- I need to turn down my Dawn-ness, if I want to keep his sanity intact.

"Well, that and he was implying some... terrible things in store for the kid, and I'm not one to sit off to the side when something like that happens." I cross my arms at him. "I might've gone about it in a weird way, but you can't tell me it was the wrong thing to do." I go to rub the back of my neck, feeling the new additions of my body interacting.

So, a full report of my new changes might help me remember that they're _there_ ; hate to wake up one morning and fall on my face because I forgot about it. So there was my old – sort of – changes, starting with the horns, ears, eyes, and face. They stayed mostly normal, except now there's two strokes of scales coming from somewhere behind my neck, going over the back of my jaw and just barely ending in points at my cheeks. Then there's the tail, which is still mostly normal, except for something that I'll get to soon.

Now, for the new stuff: my hands are still shaped like hands, except for them ending in sharp points, like claws. The scales covering them go up to my elbow, which fade back into my normal skin color. My legs have been completely altered, with only the general shape of my thighs being the same. I mentioned to myself that they are covered entirely in those yellow-blue scales, which then bend back some and then forwards into what I think is called digitigrade. Then there's the wings, with a similar color scheme going on.

Still hate the fact that I have no back to my shirts, now. Stupid wings, I bet they don't even work...

Oh, and apparently my hair decided to pull a chia pet and grow in a perfect line, tracing my spine and meeting the fuzzy part at my tail. _Great._

 _ **I think it looks great on you, for one.**_

 _How can you tell; aren't you entirely inside my head?_

 _ **Yes, but I can make a guess, and I like the results.**_

"Um..." A small voice pipes up from behind me. I turn around to be met with the tiger girl looking slightly embarrassed.

A few thing about the kid: one is that her name is Gwyneth. Two, after Flora coaxed her out of my side and cleaned her up, is that she is _adorable_. Her eyes, sort of like how most non-humans I've met – _however few they were_ – they're huge and gray. Her hair is a bright orange, which goes down to a bit past her shoulders. And despite the events that happened, she doesn't act shy like kids her age might.

Yet again, I didn't really act shy when I was her age.

Although that's probably because she looks oddly sharp for someone so young. I would think that she was educated, but thinking back at Keith's map, we're on the wrong side of Human Territory to be close to the Tigers. But that only leaves the other option, and if slavery here is how it was a long time ago...

Well.

I turn to face her as I watch her tug the hem of her shirt. "What's up, Gwen?"

She wrinkles her tiny nose at the nickname. "My name's Gwyneth, not Gwen."

"I know, but I shorten everyone's name. For example," I point to Flora, who's having a hushed conversation with Trace. "Flo," I move my finger to Trace. "Blue," I then point to Keith, who looks deep in thought. "And Fuzzball."

When I look back to Gwen, she only looks more confused. "Those last two don't make sense."

I give her a crooked smile. "Yup. I only do that because it's funny to see Keith get all huffy- right, Fuzzball?" I call over my shoulder to Keith.

"That nickname is stupid; you know that, right?" Keith sighs back, hearing another soft smack of a facepalm. Which also has the effect of getting a small giggle out of Gwen. Bonus.

"See?" She nods. "So, why did you come get me? Need something?"

She lift up one of her arms to hold the other, glancing off to the side. "Um... where can I sleep?"

I go to tell her that she could use my tent, but as I go to grab my pack I remember that it's not there. Bandits, right. They still have everything; the only thing that I could grab was some clothes and then bail out of there-

-which means they have my satchel. My camera. _My photos_ -

" _No..._ " I bemoan into my hands. "My stuff, I forgot to grab them."

I hear Keith from across me speak up. "You managed to grab your staff, didn't you?" I look up to him, only to see him facing a space beside me. I follow his gaze-

And behold, my weird seawater staff is leaning up against the fallen log I'm sitting against. I slowly go to grab it, pulling it closer and looking it over. "I... don't remember grabbing this." I shake my head. "Well, it doesn't exactly help not having my tent anymore. Sorry, Gwen; looks like I'm in the same boat as you."

She looks down slightly, and I have the overwhelming urge to comfort her. I only hold back, because I only just met the kid, I shouldn't do that. But still, it's a bit embarrassing to not be able to help a _child_ find someplace to sleep, of all things. I'm an adult, damnit!

"She can use my tent."

My eyes shoot wide, head moving over to face Keith. He sees my surprised look and scoffs. "I'm not heartless, Dawn."

"Um, okay?" I look back over to Gwen, who doesn't look as surprised as I do. Well, it'll be a matter of time before she understands. "Guess that answers your question, sunshine. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

And so the three of us went to Fuzzball's tent, where he pulled out his stuff and I got Gwen situated. She gave me a thankful look, right before she dived behind the tent flaps. That kid, I swear she's mature for her age, or something. I just wish I could do something more, instead of being next to invalid because of these stupid appendages...

Well, that sounds like a tomorrow problem, not a tonight problem. I turn to head back to the campfire, only to see Keith giving me a look.

I move over to stand across from him. "I, uh, forgot to thank you for saving me. This is, what, the second time you helped me? First this whole adventuring business and now this."

His mouth twitches into a smile for a second. "Three times, if you count that time you passed out in South Leighton."

"Ha, you right. I don't exactly remember that time, so you know..." I sigh. "Alright, enough stalling on my end; what do you want?"

"What are we going to do to it- _her_? We aren't exactly equipped to bring a _child_ along with us, especially with our track record of getting into trouble." He sighs, crossing his arms. "I know we couldn't exactly leave her, but keeping her?"

I'm silent for a while, looking back at the tent Gwen is sleeping in. "I don't know."

"Listen, you can't just keep-" He pauses. "What?"

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I said 'I don't know'. I don't know how I'm going to help her, I barely know how to help myself, and I just lost the one thing that reminded me of the good times that I had with Danny to a bunch of savages in the middle of the woods. I'm optimistic, not omniscient, Keith. I don't _know_ what the hell to do anymore other than see where this takes me, and even that sounds like a terrible idea, seeing how I'm apparently slowly turning into a dragon!"

I throw my arms up. "Now I'm left with nothing but someone else's clothes on my back, a kid that I felt like I failed supporting mentally, and an ass that won't _shut up_ and stop questioning why I wake up in the morning, so giving up sound _great_! You heard me; I. Want. To. Give. _Up!_ "

And then I level Keith with a look that feels as sharp as a knife. "But. I'm not going to. Are you gonna ask why?"

Keith looks shocked beyond belief. Hid eyes are wide, jaw slack, and any wind in his sails gone. Still, he works his jaw and says, "Why?"

I walk right up to him, not dropping the sharp look for a second. "Because it's in my very blood to not. Give. Up. My mother had a choice, you know? She _knew_ that giving birth to me was probably going to kill her. She had the choice to try and go about it differently, but she _chose_ to keep going."

"When she did die, my father could've just given up. He was a single father, with a newborn and no relatives to take care of me while he worked. He had nothing but a dream and a baby, and _he_ didn't give up. Even though he had no family to support him, he kept going, and he managed to move on despite his _best friend_ and _wife_ dying and leaving me behind."

"Hell, _Ma_ could've chose to not love me; I'm not her flesh and blood, why should she care? But she chose to do something about it, because she _wanted_ to be my mother where the one who gave birth to me couldn't from beyond the grave."

I take a second to breathe, closing my eyes and taking a step back. After a few moments of quiet, where the only sound was the crickets and nightlife of the forest. When I open my eyes again, Keith is looking me dead in the eyes, with some sort of emotion going through them.

I give him a somber look, along with a crooked smile. "I managed to make it this far, in spite of everything that happened to me. Danny, college, ending up here – somehow – and coming along with you guys, _this_ ," I gesture to my body and it's new additions. "All of that isn't going to stop me. I lost everything but myself, and even that is subjective at this point, but there's _so much more_ out there, and you can bet that I'm going to find that 'much more', even if it kills me."

Quiet falls over us, again. I feel something trailing down my face, and putting my hand up to it tells me that I started tearing up during my rant. I take the front of my shirt and rub my face, seeing how my arm is mostly scale, now. Great, what a way to ruin everything I said.

I wait for a response. I wait, and wait, but all he does is stand there, watching me with a blank look.

So that's how it's going to be from now on, huh? "Okay. Good to see where you stand on this." I don't give him another glance as I walk away and towards a tree near where Gwen is sleeping.

 _At least you have my back._

 _ **I do, hon.**_

I let out a huff as I lean against the tree, sitting down and ignoring the small choking sound that was in the huff.

* * *

 **A/N: Shorter than the past couple of chapters, but if I was to get to the stopping point that I had in mind, this wouldn't be here until the end of the year.**

 **But** _ **guess who's kinda back**_ **? It's smol kitten! I felt like I didn't do her quite as well this time around, but I'm going for a different attitude, instead of the cliché 'shy around others, happy around protagonist' child. Kids are hard to write for me, so hey.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed! See ya!**

 **P.S.: Expect something soon, if everything goes right. Hopefully.**


	10. Interlude: So I met this girl at a bar

**A/N: Felt great about that last one, so I made this. Ho boy.**

 **Hope you enjoy this interlude!**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **I do not own Twokinds. Shocker, I know, but it's true.**_

* * *

I first met her in a tavern.

I managed to reach Pinewood sometime in the late afternoon, and I didn't gather too much attention. I managed to slip into the tavern, and rent out a room for the night. I went back out and gather some supplies, then took a rest in the empty side room.

See, I wanted to wait out the rest of the day so that I could quietly sleep sometime in the early evening, then wake up at dawn and leave in the morning. It was only a quick stop, where I listen into the conversations in the next room for the slim chance on hearing anything about the Grand Templar, and failing that, at least have a small break before moving on to the next town.

And then _she_ waltzed right into my life, somehow.

She walked into the side room, looking relieved. Must've not liked the crowds, something that I can relate to. Even though I do it out of necessity, most days. She sat down at a table, sliding into her chair with a mug of ale in her hand, which she looked at curiously.

Something seemed off about her, ever since I set my eyes on her. When I looked at her, she didn't _look_ different than your average human; brown hair, brown eyes, plain face, the works. Hair was a bit short, and it gives her a bit of a boyish look, but it isn't something I haven't seen before.

But the clothes? Despite being rumpled and smelling of sweat, they looked to have been made by a professional tailor, although they are an odd make. Then there's the side bag that she carries, which doesn't look like one that I've ever seen. And the way that she carries herself doesn't make her seem like any commoner going through. A noble in disguise, perhaps? If so, they're doing a shoddy job of not attracting attention to themselves.

At least, that was my first thoughts on her, until I gave myself away by laughing at her lack of taste for ale.

After that? It was an honest balance of madness that makes me question her sanity and sincerity that I've _never_ seen a human give me before. When I laughed hard enough to drop my hood, she went quiet, then sat at my table and proceeded to _apologize_ to me, as if it was her fault I was egging her on. I'll admit, I wasn't being nice to her; far from kind, if it ever escalated.

But with her? One look at me and she looks like she insulted my ancestors and then some and regretted every word.

We talk some more, which was a reprieve that I haven't had in _years_. It was... decent. Not perfect, because I couldn't hold back all those years of snark around her, and she reacted like one would suspect, but nice? Definitely.

Then it went back into madness when she didn't seem to realize where she was, and then she started asking about places that I've never heard of...

Shortly afterwards, she left in a daze, almost like her entire world just fell apart within a minute. Something that I'm familiar with, too. There's a lot of things that I both can't make heads or tails of and can relate almost too well to, when it comes to her.

The next day, after a restless night where I had memories come back – probably because of her, now that I think about it – I found her sitting at the same spot, where she sat across from me. We had something of a nice conversation, then it devolved quickly when that human tried to kill me.

Then a _lot_ happened very quickly, where _the Grand Templar himself_ walked through the doorway looking confused, the woman verbally berated the red-haired human, and I found that said Grand Templar doesn't remember anything past a handful of days. While it made getting him to come and help me, something else happened.

She asked if she could travel with _me_. She wasn't there for me getting the Grand Templar to have me join him, so it probably wasn't so she could be with somebody in high political standing and power. So, just like before, she's being genuine to me – a non-human – because she knows me to a small degree. Trust like that is dangerous, but if what she said from last night is true...

Well.

She then paid me in a form of art that is unheard of, saying that it was near and dear to her, and asked where she could get traveling supplies.

What followed for the next couple of days was something that made me question my past three years experience on humans. First, both she and the _Grand Templar_ defended a keidran, with one of them sounding disappointed – of all things – about what I did. Later, she told everyone present that enslaving in general is outlawed for over a century from where she lived, then said that the fact that it exists here is terrible.

She then got drunk, walked away from camp for a couple of hours, then came back to myself in a tree and half of our group running around somewhere in the woods. She didn't help me down, then slept in my tent to rub salt in the wound. I thought of fixing her tent and using it, but it felt too inappropriate, even if she was beyond rude.

I had more memories come back, unfortunately. I found myself holding the 'picture' of a sunset, when I awoke.

Then she ribbed me in the morning, and almost for the rest of the day she tried to get on my nerves in some form or fashion. It was always criticism about one thing or another that I've done, and I gave back in return whenever I had the chance.

Looking back on it, it was entirely unnecessary, and something tells me that I knew that at the time. It was...

Then we went into South Leighton, and her entire demeanor dropped. Slowly, she seemed to become more and more distressed about _something_ , and one time I had to snap her out of some sort of horrified daze, where she was staring at an abandoned building. Something wasn't right, but before I could think on it the weather turned for the worse, at least for me.

Then she dragged me into a deal where we got a room for free, but _only one room_ , a bizarre chat with some people from Pinewood and a wolf over pizza and something that had a subtleflower in it, which made sleeping a highly embarrassing experience since she dragged me into bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Said dreams were a mix of memories and her, which wasn't bad. Which, in turn, terrified me. It was... _was..._

Then the next morning happened, where she forgot most of last night, got covered in mud at some point, and screamed her head off as horns sprouted out of her head, along with a concerning amount of blood dripping from her skull. I didn't think she would live, and that terrified me.

It was... unreasonable, knowing what happened in the past. I'm not supposed to be doing this- _feeling_ like this. But...

She woke up, barely remembering most of that day after being unconscious for that long. I felt so relieved.

I, Keith Keiser, a murderous outcast from the Basitin Isles, has started to care for someone for the second time since being banished. By all that is holy- I _told her_ that I was banished by my people and all she did was give me an understanding look and tell me that she lost her own brother because she wasn't observant enough of him. She's not supposed to be like this- this... understanding individual who can _relate back_... But...

But I didn't stop her. I might've been slow in being nicer – less of an asshole, she would tell me – but I started caring for her, and that time she called me a monster and blasted water at me I felt like the worst basitin that walked on Mekkan! The memories started bleeding _her_ into them, instead of Lau- of that keidran!

And then she get herself _kidnapped_ by human psychopaths that harvest non-humans, and she's beginning to look less and less like one every passing week, and she just _brushes it off_ -

…

Oh, who am I kidding? I lift back up to my vision Dawn's picture of that sunset, something that I've come to find is more than one of her best pictures and is more along the lines of one of her last memories of her brother, Danny.

I'm not as angry as I always put myself out to be. It's just... so hard to believe that someone that is good towards me while knowing how bad I could be is there. The first was... _Laura_.

Laura knew about me, and what I've done. And despite my mood being as blue as it was, she stayed. Later on, it wasn't much of that case, anymore, for obvious reasons, but I hardly expected anyone alive to be as well meaning as she was when we first met.

And then the wind blows in a sweating, tired, strange human woman into the tavern I was in. It wasn't pretty, at first, and there has been it's up and down over the weeks, but now...

I care about her; her well-being, the place she came from, the things she knows, hell- the stupid nickname that she insists on giving me: Fuzzball; I lo... _like_ , those things about her!

But I didn't say that. Instead, I said something so utterly _stupid_ and kept being an ass at the worst time. I knew that she keeps loosing things, the longer she stays here. At first it was her money, then it was her features – _although her ears look better, in my opinion_ – and then _more_ of herself to the point that her torso and upper arms are the only thing left that's truly her, and even then I had to cut the back out of a shirt just so she could cover herself up.

And then she had enough of me. She said that she wasn't going to stop, no matter what, because it's in her blood not to, and she let slip that she thought that the woman who raised her could've been hateful towards her because she's not her _real_ mother, that her father could've chose to be a terrible father – _sounds familiar_ – and that her birth mother could still be here if not for being born in the first place-

Does... does Dawn not like herself? No, she pays attention to herself, although she did say that what makes her 'Dawn' is getting harder and harder to see...

…

But I said nothing. I was just too shocked by her own revelation and too focused on how hard it would be from here on out now that there's a child – _keidran, but still_ – and now...

I get up, carefully straightening the wrinkles in the photo, and walk over to where Dawn decided to sleep, carrying my pack along with me. I find her sitting up against a tree, head facing the tent that Gwyneth's taken up. As I approach, she turns her head towards me, then frowns.

"What now? Have more to say to-" I thrust the picture towards her, close enough that she goes cross-eyed to look at it. "Uh..."

"You said you lost everything, back there. So, if you want, you can have this back. You can still come along, I know how much it means to you." I shuffle my feet when she doesn't immediately take it.

But, after a moment, a scaled hand gingerly takes it from me. "Thanks." Dawn slowly turns the picture over in her hand, settling to just stare at it.

After a moment, where she doesn't respond, I spill out, "Sorry."

She looks up at me, only responding with a raised brow.

I sigh. She's making me elaborate, huh? Well... "Sorry for being hard on you; I know that you haven't been having the best three weeks, and I haven't made it easy for you to take it all in."

"You do make a shitty tour guide." Her face doesn't shift, but a certain light sparks in her amber-orange orbs.

I continue on. "And I know from personal experience that suddenly not being home is... well, it's a jarring experience, and you've definitely taken it better than I have."

She mulls over my words for a moment, then she mumbles, "Wouldn't be so sure about that, but..." Another moment passes. "I definitely wasn't alright, probably even before you met me. People mourn in weird ways, you know." She lets out a slow sigh. "Look, I was an ass to you, _again_. I shouldn't have-"

"No."

Her head stops drifting off to the side, snapping up to me. "What?"

Even I was a bit surprised at that, but I take a moment to breathe in and say, "No, you had every right to act that way. I... wasn't exactly being the kindest towards you, either. I'm... in a similar situation. Sort of."

Yet again, she looks at me in that understanding way, and I can't even deny that she doesn't understand because she _does_. She knows loss; even if it isn't the same, she _felt it_. And what does she do with it?

She cares, underneath the rough, vulgar, surprisingly humorous, strong exterior, and she directs it at me like I deserve it.

"You're doing it again." She cuts through my thoughts unknowingly. "You make this face every time you look at me after saying something deep. What's up?"

I open my mouth to say 'It's nothing', but I can't seem to get the words out. I don't want to lie to her, she's too perceptive for that and, well, I don't want to in the first place. But...

She sighs. "Sounds like it's a tomorrow problem; I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Apparently saving a kid and growing wings takes a lot out of a girl. Who knew?" She does one of her crooked smiles, and I can't help but smile back at that.

Around the mention of being tired, I remember the pack that I'm holding, and I quickly go into it and take out a bedroll, placing it next to her. "You can have this; that tree doesn't look too comfortable, does it?"

She looks at it, a frown coming onto her face. "Then were are you gonna sleep for the next... however long we're in this damn forest?"

I shrug. "I've slept on the ground for a while, before. I'm no stranger to-"

And then she leans up to me, which wasn't too hard seeing how I ended up on one knee to give her the bedroll, and clasps my mouth shut. _Tightly._ "Or, you could stop, and we can be adults about this. I know this is hard for you," She gives me a wink, as if the obvious sarcasm wasn't enough. "But how about I just spread this out and we just lay on it."

"Now before you start saying that 'it's inappropriate' or something, It's not like I can use it normally, anyways." I see her flex her new appendages on her back, and some of the wind in my sails leave.

She finally lets go, and I bring a hand up to rub my face. "You didn't have to be so rough..."

She gives me a deadpan at that. "Knowing you, there is no other way but to go through. You're good at being a brick wall, but I'm better at being a sledgehammer." With that said, she unfurls the bedroll and unfolds it to were it's a decent-sized square of material on the forest floor. She gets on one half, laying on her side, then pats the space next to her. "C'mon, it'll be like a slumber party, if it makes you feel better."

…

I don't know what a slumber party is, but I feel unreasonably warm as I slowly slide down-

-and Dawn just grabs my hand and yanks me down, a yelp leaving my throat. At my offended look, she just rolls her eyes and mumbles "You took to long." then carefully rolls onto her other side.

"G'night, Fuzzball." She quietly tells me.

I exhaled – _read: wheeze_ – and rolled onto my side, back to back with Dawn. "Night, Dawn."

…

"Oh, and one more thing?" I look over my shoulder to see Dawn doing the same. "You better not see this as me making a move on you; I'm to young for that bullshit."

I furrow my brow at her. "Aren't you older than I am?"

"Yeah, which is still to young, if you ask me." And she falls quiet for a second.

Then she looks at me. "Well, how about you catch me in a few years, see if my answer changes. Anytime soon, though? That's a hard no, for me." With that said, she does a hard turn and doesn't say anything else for the night.

...I'm just going to pretend that didn't sound like a future invitation, and go to sleep. At least it makes sleeping next to her a lot easier.

That night, I dreamed more, and Dawn began to bleed into focus, to where I did less aching and more smiling, sitting across from her at a table in a tavern and laughing at something that she definitely would say.

It was... relaxing.

* * *

 **A/N: So I looked back on everything, and I realized that the prologue could be twisted into a 'So I saw her from across the bar' cliché, if one look at it sideways and squinted some. Funny, looking back on it, but it flew right over my head back then.**

 **So this was a short one, but it got what I wanted to be said across. I could've fit this into the end of last chapter, but I wanted this to be stand-alone. (Also so that I could have this chapter's name, ha.)**

 **Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this minor interlude, and have a good one!**

 **P.S.: Wow, I really got to stop writing these things at midnight. It's probably not healthy.**


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